LiveC-SEC Season One: Big Hit
by jerseydanielgibson
Summary: Someone thought it would be a good idea to make an immersion reality HV show called 'LiveC-SEC'; embedding a reporter with a C-SEC Officer. Mike Green, Columbia graduate, has been teamed up with Corporal Jane Shepard to 'dog' her patrols in the Zakera Outer Tract Lower Wards. What happens when a rookie reporter teams up with a redheaded cop with a grudge and a score to settle?
1. The Sandstorm, I

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. Concept based off the A&E Entertainment program 'LivePD'._

**Office of Administration, Tenth Floor, C-SEC Academy, Tosh District, Lower Ring, Presidium, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

Michael Patrick Greene sat in a lobby wing of the Office of Administration for the Citadel Security Services main headquarters, known as the Academy. The twenty-two year old Earth-born man was a little at unease at the sight of other _sapients_, seeing aliens that he had only seen in pics, vids, and holovision shows now within fairly close proximity of him. Oh, he had seen some on Earth, visiting for whatever reasons, but he had never talked to one or stood near one before. Seeing a Turian in full armor working at the front desk within a few meters had Mike trying not to stare at the obvious differences between a Human Being and a Turian Being; the plated face, horizontal mandibles that laid alone the mouth and jaw, the long tapered fringe that extended pass the skull, and the fact that the Turian had three long, pointed claws instead of fingers. Actually, Mike was fascinated to see that the talon-like protrusions were actually semi-flexible, so they weren't like the claws of a lion or a bear, though they certainly did look dangerous.

"_Serah_ Greene?" The Turian looked up from his Haptic monitor at his desk, slightly ovaloid creme-green eyes looking at the Human man. "The _Prelate_ will see you now." Mike nodded as he stood up and automatically ran a hand down his polo shirt to smooth it out for better presentability. A _Prelate_ was the equivalent of a Commander or a Captain in C-SEC, in charge of a division or department in law enforcement. He had looked up some of the ranks, departments, bureaus, and sections of Citadel Security Services on his flight from Earth to the Citadel to get a better feel of the bureaucracy of it. All of it boiled down to one thing.

Future Content Network's idea of embedding a reporter with a Citadel Police Officer for a immersion law enforcement holovision show to be known as '_LiveC-SEC_'.

For the past few months, there had been some incidences involving Citadel Security Services and the Human population on the Citadel. It had only been a decade or so since members of Humanity had been allowed to live on the Citadel, and less than that since the Systems Alliance had been allowed an Embassy. The Sons and Daughters of Terra were still the galactic newcomers, not to mention that First Contact had happened in a shadow war against the Turian Hierarchy as two Palavenian Fleets had engaged the colonists of Shanxi in an illegal war starting with the supposed access of a Human vessel and an unmapped Mass Relay that accumulated with a four-month war between Turians and Humans on and around the colonial world of Shanxi. It had been almost twenty years since the Asari stepped in to prevent more attrosities from occuring, and the whole debacle of the Hierarchy lying to the Citadel Council of Law and the Citadel Chamber of Governance of their actions meaning that the Turian Councilor, the Turian Chamberlain, the Turian Ambassador, and the Turian Primarch had all been sacked in the aftermath, the Hierarchy forced to pay restitution and repartations to not only the Shanxians, but deploying members of the Systems Alliance Navy and Marine Corps and their family members for those who lost a son or daughter defending Mankind.

_Awkwardly tense_ was a pretty apt description for relations between Palavenians and Terrans. On the good days, as Mike understood it.

The twenty-two year old man went from the lobby to a door that automatically slid open after it chimed its acceptance to his approach, showing him a corridor that ran through an office-like setting that wouldn't be too far out of place from a corporate building with its cubicles and workers diligent at whatever duties they were performing on their personal monitors and terminals save that he saw at least half-a-dozen different species represented. The first thing he noted was that he didn't see one Human Being in sight from the five to six dozen Officers that were obviously some sort of Administration department, probably filing evidence and logs for Citadel Security; the joke was that the lifeblood of law enforcement was paperwork and datawork. Mike went down the corridor past the many cubicles to his left and offices that were on his right, each with placards announcing the person who occupied it, their rank and their position in eight different languages, thankfully Alliance Standard English being one of them. He had been given directions, and Mike followed them faithfully, not wanting to muck up in the middle of a massive police station.

The office in question was at the end of the corridor, and read _Prelate Cantius Camrinus, Prelate of Administration (C-SEC Academy)_. Mike took a deep breath and walked towards the door, chiming with permissible access and opening automatically.

He found himself walking into a fair-sized office dominated by a work desk and a large male Turian in full body armor that _glared_ at him as he entered.

"_Serah_ Greene." The flanged voice spoke with as neutral a tone as Mike had ever heard as a taloned finger pointed towards an available seat in front of his desk. "Have a seat. Your… escort will be here momentarily." The Human man complied wordlessly as he took a seat, wondering what would happen in the next few minutes. Oh, he knew what the _intent_ was, and FCN had flexed some network muscle to get the Human Embassy to push forward _something_ to stem the recent… tensions between Humans and Turians on the Citadel (which filtered down to the various networks in Earth Alliance Space). This whole idea was a way to ease the tensions that were growing between the Turian Hierarchy and Systems Alliance with a plan that came right out of the Roman playbook, actually.

_Panem an Circuses_; bread and entertainment, feed the public with glittering toys and distractions. It was sickening that such things still worked rather well on the public.

Mike didn't have to wait long as the door to the _Prelate's_ office opened once more about a minute after he had sat down to admit another Human Being into the location; this one a C-SEC Officer. A dozen like himself had been sent to the Citadel as a part of a plan by Future Content Network to create an immersion law enforcement reality show to be known as 'LiveC-SEC'; reporters that would be embedded with an Citadel Officer of the Law to highlight _Human_ contributions in the Center of the Known Universe while showcasting Humans making their way in the galaxy. Instead of one of the myriad melodramas or romcom sitcoms that one could find hundreds to pick from on ENetFlix, FCN wanted one that was nittier-and-grittier, a real view of what an average person saw in the Citadel while showing off the Citadel in other ways besides panoramic shots and show studios. They had wanted realism, and so it had been decided that the best way to do that was to embed reporters with Human C-SEC Officers to give Humanity something else to look at while also promoting Human endeavors in the Center of the Known Universe.

There were less than a hundred Human Citadel Security Service Officers in the entirety of the Citadel after twelve years on the Prothean-built station to choose from… and Mike Greene had picked the only female officer that had actually stuck it out for more than a year.

"Prelate." The female officer in question came to the office, her green eyes touching him for a moment before returning to the Turian _Prelate_. "What's going on?" Mike had seen those eyes look at him; assessment, the eyes of a cop who weighed anything and everything instantly, experience backing up their profiling and decision. Something was unusual, and this woman was already trying to figure out why a civilian such as himself was in the office of the Captain of Administration in C-SEC Academy while she was requested to come so far from her normal precinct at the exact same time. No doubt she knew something was going on as those green eyes assessed.

"_Decantus_ Shepard." _Prelate _Camrinus pointed to another available chair as the fully-armed-and-armored woman in C-SEC periwinkle-blue-and-soft-black colors took to the seat, the colors offset by her pale _Euros_-colored skin that was smattered with a riot of light tan freckles and a shock of coppery red hair held back in a simple ponytail. "To put it simply, your species Ambassador has… pushed forward a proposition that I don't agree with but must enact by order of the Executor of C-SEC." The woman's jaw flexed slightly, as if she had bitten into something unexpectedly sour. "Some empty-fringed idiot thinks it's a good idea to help calm things by introducing an interactive journalist to several Human Civil Patrol Officers in the hopes of making a…", the Turian grunted as he picked up a nearby datapadd to consult something, "…a _reality_ show spotlighting Human Officers and the efforts of Citadel Security Services."

"And… I was selected because I'm the only Human woman remaining in C-SEC." The _Decantus_ looked over to Mike, and he saw how much approval there was in those green eyes of hers; exactly _zero_. "Perfect. What brain-dead _clochea_ agreed to that idea? I assume I'm not getting a change of precinct."

"No, your duty section and patrol route will remain the same." The reporter suspected that there was a hint of amusement from the Turian. "And if you wish to know, just ask the Human next to you. He was the one that selected you."

Those green eyes returned to him, hard and merciless. Certainly the eyes of a veteran cop with three years on the force.

"Got a spouse? Kids? Girlfriend or boyfriend?" The _Decantus_ asked, her tone completely without tone or inflection.

"No, why?" Mike asked, a little taken aback by the chitchat sort of questions. Those were usually asked on a more personal level, not amongst strangers. And he was the reporter!

"Then I suggest calling your parents, cookie dough." The redheaded woman told him, and he could see how much sympathy there was in those green eyes of hers; exactly _zero_. "You might last the month, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

"You think I'll quit?" Mike asked, a little taken aback.

"No." _Decantus_ Shepard replied, shaking her head as she smiled at him. There was nothing good in that smile; it wasn't the smile of a pretty woman, but a cop who was looking at someone that had just royally fucked-up by admitting to a crime.

"I think you'll be dead."

The _Prelate_ just grunted, but didn't argue or disagree as Mike looked to him, and then back to Shepard.

"Welcome to the Orlop Zakera Outer Tract Section, cookie dough."

* * *

**Shepard Segment #1**

**C-SEC Academy, Tosh District, Lower Ring, Presidium, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

**[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]**

**[POV shows what's known as a Citadel Security Services Motor Pool where Cipritine Aerovessel Company X3M Contragravity Skycars are located, colored and labeled as C-SEC Police Sky-Cruisers. Decantus JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD is in the lead, heading towards one of the Sky-Cruisers as POV follows her in the motor pool] **

MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: _So we're going back to your precinct?_

CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: Yeah, I'm not having you walked around in the Lowers in a shirt and slacks, cookie dough. You'll be target practice within the hour and I don't feel like scraping your corpse off the Concourse.

**[SHEPARD waives a blue-colored OmniTool over the gullwing door of the Sky-Cruiser, and an audible chime is heard; the Skycar unlocks. Both gullwing doors swing upward. SHEPARD enters the 'driver side' as POV enters the passenger side]**

MPG: _This your cruiser?_

JCS: HA! That's funny. You realize that you picked a Civil Patrol Officer, right? Mobile Patrol have the Cruisers, I'm the bloody infantry.

**[POV shows SHEPARD looking at POV's footwear]**

JCS: We're going to have to take you shoe-shopping, cookie dough. Those Oxfords of yours are going to be terrible on your feet. Bet you'll be crying by about halfway through the shift.

**[The gullwing doors close as SHEPARD taps a few options on the in-board computer at the center of the dashboard]**

JCS: Never actually used one of these things before.

**[SHEPARD looks to POV]**

JCS: You are in some kind of actual decent shape for a Human Being, right? Can actually walk a kilometer or two without having a hissy fit or a heart attack?

MPG: _I played European Football in Secondary Gymnasium._

JCS: Oh, good. You'll be able to outrun the wobblies and the slows. Anything else chases you down, and you're just going to be not-so-fast food.

**[The Sky-Cruiser lifts up and begins heading towards the Motor Pool Entrance to leave. SHEPARD doesn't touch the yoke, everything automated. THe POV shows the Sky-Cruiser leaving the Motor Pool and into a Skylane for the Lower Presidium Ring, where dozens of two-hundred meter buildings stand as the Cruiser merges into a lightly-trafficked lane before SHEPARD takes the yoke]**

MPG: _So where is it that you patrol, Decantus Jane Shepard?_

JCS: Corporal, actually. Turians refuse to use Human ranks. And I patrol the Zakera Arm, Outer Tract, Orlop Wards. **[SHEPARD looks to POV] **If you were hoping a nice little cush job walking the beat in the 'sidium, then you're going to be sorely disappointed, cookie dough. **[SHEPARD looks back to traffic, flying along with traffic]**Did you pick me out of a hat, or just look though the roster of remaining Human Officers that didn't quit or get hurt and go 'oh, gee, look! A chick cop! That'll boost ratings!'. No bull[beep], cookie dough.

MPG: _I… uh…_

JCS: You picked the only girl cop.

MPG: _…you're also… um, a cute redhead, too. It would poll well._

**[SHEPARD just looks at POV with a fixed stare instead of traffic]**

MPG: _You said 'no bull[__beep__]'! That's the no bull[__beep__] answer!_

**[SHEPARD finishes the glare and returns her attention to traffic]**

JCS: Great, three years on the force and the only thing people are going to give a [beep] about is the fact that I have a pair of nice [beep] and a nice [beep]. **[POV turns to see traffic instead of SHEPARD, seeing a dozen or so flying Skycars before it]** Did you even look at my record or anything before picking the cute redhead?

**[POV looks to SHEPARD, then away]**

JCS: [beep]ing perfect. You're really getting nothing but [beep]ing net here, cookie dough.

**[POV turns to SHEPARD]**

JCS: What? Need a close-up of my cute redhead face? Do I need to visit a make-up artist before we walk neck-deep in the rough?

MPG: _You're… kinda suppose to narrate. I fill in some portions, and you fill in on the day-to-day activities of a Citadel Security Service Officer._

JCS: Yeah, I'm so [beep]ing glad that someone gave me a script or some other bull[beep] before stapling your [beep] to my hip. I'll [beep]ing narrate when we're actually [beep]ing filming or whatever.

**[Awkward silence]**

JCS: What?

MPG: _Um…_

**[SHEPARD turns to POV, face red with obvious anger]**

JCS: You're… [beep]ing [beep]ing me right now, right? You're filming? Now?

MPG: _…yeah. It's an interactive cop show._

JCS: And you couldn't [beep]ing cue me in like, "hey! I press this little toggle or call out 'action' and we're rolling!" No wonder you don't have a girlfriend or a boyfriend if this is how you act on a first date.

**[Awkward silence]**

JCS: So how long have we been rolling? I guess that's why you asked me about the whole patrol thing a bit ago.

MPG: _We've been broadcasting since before we got in the Cruiser. We're not allowed to catch images or vids of the inside working of C-SEC so we don't spoil investigations or any procedures to criminal elements._

JCS: Huh. You do have standards. That's a shocker.

MPG: _Um, you know the whole 'cue you in' thing?_

JCS: Yes?

MPG: _They did tell you what this show was going to be about, right?_

JCS: You were there with me when Prelate Camrinus briefed me. You guys are making a reality cop show to help ease tensions or whatnot.

MPG: _Well… it's called 'LiveC-SEC'. _**[Awkward cough from POV]**_ '__Live__' is kinda the key term here._

**[Awkward silence, and SHEPARD slowly turns to look at POV]**

JCS: You mean you're not only filming me right now… but it's being shown on holovision as we [beep]ing speak?

MPG: _It's a live interactive reality cop show. There's only a fifteen second delay for editing of language or disturbing scenes. Otherwise… _

JCS: Whatever I say and do goes and shows live on HV without any real control by your company or corporation or whatnot?

MPG: _…essentially._

**[SHEPARD stares out the front of the Skycruiser as a slow smile builds on her face]**

JCS: You know… I just had a real nasty idea.

MPG: _I should probably tell you that there are a dozen other interactive journalists with a dozen other Human C-SEC Officers being filmed as we speak. You do something bad, and they can just switch it to any one of theirs. Technically, I have no idea if we're actually being 'broadcasted' right now. We could show up at a later segment just so people can laugh at you for finding out the hard way. And I really thought C-SEC knew. They were told. I thought you came in knowing at least the premise of what was going on._

JCS: So it's a roulette wheel of action and whoever scores the most drama is likely the one on the screen, right?

MPG: _That's how I got it, yeah. I'm not one of the producers or one of the tech guys in the control room, but that's probably the gist of it._

**[SHEPARD is still looking out the window, nodding her head slowly]**

JCS: Got your diapers on, cookie dough? Because I got a score to settle with an old friend.

MPG: _Like… a __bust__?_

**[SHEPARD looks at POV]**

JCS: We're going to meet the piece of [beep] that murdered my partner and [beep]ing got away with it on a stupid-[beep] technicality thanks to his scum-sucking high-priced [beep]hole Defense Councilor.

**[POV just looks at SHEPARD as SHEPARD turns back to face traffic]**

JCS: Probably should have looked at my service record before picking the cute redhead, cookie dough.

* * *

**Shepard Segment #2**

**CPTA Lot, Block 3650 (Skywards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

**[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]**

CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: So… is this the part where I narrate like a movie trailer or promo?

MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE:_ Yeah. Shouldn't I be in… some sort of armor?_

JCS: Naw, where we're going is pretty tame; a business. Okay. **[Clears throat]** I mean, what do I say? Do I start with my name and explain what's going to happen, or just give a teaser?

MPG: _Name, where we're at, and intent will probably be for the best._

JCS: Okay. **[SHEPARD looks out the front of the Skycruiser]** My name is Corporal Jane Shepard, and I'm a three-year veteran C-SEC Officer of the Lower/Orlop Zakera Outer Tract Sector Precinct. Today… **[SHEPARD pauses]** …today we're going to confront the piece of [beep] that killed my partner and completely got away with it. **[SHEPARD looks to POV]** Centurion Castis Adepdos has a bondmate and two hatchlings, a boy and a girl, four and two years old. Their sire died protecting the law and people, and the piece of [beep] that profits off the misery of others completely got away with it. **[There's an obvious tear in SHEPARD's eye that goes unchecked and unnoticed]** The establishment we're about to walk into belongs to that piece of [beep]. It's a front, a legal business that he launders his drug money through so he can act like he's king high-and-mighty. It might be his kingdom, but it's supported by a facade and a veil of barely legal money and he can't afford the spotlight. I'm going to stomp all over his [beep] like Queen [beep] and rub in his face that he can't do [beep].

MPG: _Okay… um… what do you want me to do? I'm not a cop, I'm not in armor, and I'm certainly not armed or anything._

JCS: I wouldn't be so sure of that last one, cookie dough. Just follow my lead, keep your mouth shut… and be ready to conduct an interview when I tell you to with a Citadel-class piece of [beep]. I need you to be what you are; a journalist. We do this right… **[SHEPARD pauses]** …we can avenge a good man who was killed by some [beep]ing piece of [beep] who wants to poison people with narcotics, make Credits off of destroying people and families, and…

**[Awkward silence]**

JCS: The hardest thing I ever had to do was to hold two children asking when their sire was coming home, holding them while they cried when I had to tell them that he was never coming home again. **[SHEPARD looks to POV]** What am I suppose to tell them when they get older and they see their sires' killer out in public, never having served a day in an IsoCube or even graced a damn containment cell? Because he has some slick-[beep] [beep]ing Asari [beep] piece of [beep] who makes a living getting [beep]holes like that off and giving good, honest cops a bad name. **[SHEPARD looks ahead]** I just got off a month's suspension-without-pay along with two bullets pulled out of my back because we were this close to nailing that [beep]sucker right and proper when he retaliated by putting a hit out on us with baited evidence. Killed my partner. Damn near lost my badge and my own life. And while I'm in a hospital and my partner's in the morgue, that [beep]ing [beep]sucking piece of [beep] thinks himself the winner of this game, sipping pricey booze served by naked enslaved Asari Maidens while he continues to sell his Sand to the poor and downcast people of my Precinct, profiting off of destroyed lives and the overdoses. I'm the one that's there to pick up the pieces while he sits on his little tin god throne thinking himself my better.

**[Awkward silence. SHEPARD looks to POV]**

JCS: My Prelate told me not to make this personal. But he didn't [beep]ing watch his partner breath blood in his last moments, bleeding out and praying to the Spirits that his son and daughter would grow up to be good citizens and mind their _dam_ while I'm laying next to him with two bullets in my back.

**[Pause]**

JCS: [Beep]ing-A right this is personal. Killed Castis, damn near killed me, made a widow of his bondmate and his children are going to have to grow up never remembering their sire and that [beep]er walked. I'm not letting Maxivus and Lutania grow up knowing that their sires' last act was to accost a 'simple businessman' that somehow magically got him killed in the line-of-duty. If I can't do something right, then I'm going to do something good.

**[SHEPARD looks forward]**

JCS: I hope you're wearing your big girl panties, cookie dough. Time to nut up.

**[The pilot-side gullwing door of the Skycruiser opens, and SHEPARD exits the vessel]**

MPG: _Oh… oh [__beep__]. This certainly wasn't covered in Columbia._

**[POV looks to center console of the vessel, then the gullwing door, and then in front through the viewport where SHEPARD's fleeting form can been seen walking towards the depths of the Skywards]**

MPG: _I'm so going to [__beep__]ing die._

**[POV hand hits the center console, and the gullwing door opens, and the POV shakes as it exits the Skycruiser and begins to bounce slightly to catch up with SHEPARD]**

_**NARRATOR: AND LIVEC-SEC WILL RETURN AFTER A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS**_

* * *

**Headquarters, Future Content Network, New York City, New York, United North America, Earth, Sol System, Helios Cluster, February 8, 2175**

Executive Producer Julia Davenport stood in the Future Content Network's Control Room with a dropped jaw as she watched the feed coming from Mike Greene's streaming vidcorder visor that he wore as an eyepiece, the interactive journalist that her network had hired right out of Columbia University in New York City of the United North American States right after he graduated last year in May. Mike was like any other kid with a Communications Degree, especially one coming out of an Ivy League School with a shitload of college debt getting a four-year degree from a prestigious college. He was a hungry kid with about a hundred thousand Earth dollars in college debt looking to make a career score that would boost him right to the top. So when FCN hired him right out of college, it was like a dream come true for someone like him, getting a gig with a big-name network.

What had just been recorded had been pushed forward and aired.

"Watkins! Get me the Chief!" Julia told her assistant, Paul Watkins already beginning to dial the number on the Network's phone registry. Unlike Mike, Julia _had_ looked up _Decantus_ Jane Catherine Shepard's service record with the Citadel Security Services, and she knew of the events that had happened about five weeks prior. Shepard had literally just started that day from her month-long suspension-without-pay thanks to some legal doggerel from the so-called 'high-priced Defense Councilor' that the C-SEC Officer had just ranted about on _live_ broadcast. When Greene had picked _Decatus_ Shepard, it had been because she was the cute redheaded woman (and the only Human woman in C-SEC still in CitBlues). When Julia Davenport had reviewed it, she had known Shepard was going to be a gold metal-finalist in the heavyweight championship of hard-boiled cop movies, and they were doing it on _live holovision_! Already the social messageboards on Chirper, ARTARVA, Glinkd-In, and SpaceBookr were positively _burning_ up with viewers' messages at the rate of thousands per _minute_. Ratings for Future Content just jumped five solid points on the _galactic_ scale and twelve for Earth Alliance Space, and brand-new subscriptions were being requested and logged for the less-than-a-day old show _LiveC-SEC_… from all over the galaxy.

God, they couldn't _print_ the money fast enough if this were going to go down the way Julia thought it was going to go down.

"Ma'am? The Chairman is on the line." Watkins said, holding up the digital receiver, his eyes wide. The Chairman of the Board of Directors for Future Content Network wanted to talk to her. That was a first. Julia took the receiver with a smile.

"Mister Chairman. This is Julia Davenport." She was just an Executive Producer on her first show while the man she was talking to _ran_ all of the shows, movies, series, documentaries, social media sites, print media, and merchandise for Future Content Network. With a word, he could cut a show off completely… or promote the hell out of it into a success.

"_Where the hell did you find this cop?"_ There was a hint of eagerness in the voice of Vincent leFlamme, the Chairman of FCN and the Chief Executive Officer of its Corporate Office. _"If half of what she says is true, we practically just re-wrote every crime drama without a script or anything else other than a guerrilla journalist with a visor-cam and a cop with a grudge."_

"While I don't know the details of the investigation of _Centurion_ Adepdos and _Decantus_ Shepard, as they were all expunged by the clients' lawyer, I do know the details of the Officer-related shooting that Shepard spoke of, as well as the subsequent investigation that got shut down by the Citadel Judiciary Tribunal and the C-SEC Internal Action Affairs." Julia explained, seeing the first commercial end and going into the second. They had another forty seconds before _LiveC-SEC_ would go back on, and currently, _Decantus_ Shepard was leading Mike Greene right towards, of all things, a high-scale restaurant in the Skywards of Zakera Arm; where the rich lived. "The sapient she's seeking got off on a very _technical_ technicality under the Sapient Rights Clause dating back some eighteen-hundred years prior dealing with business transactions that generally involved two principle business members involved in a merger, details about having business records kept discrete or some other strange nonsense." Julia had no idea how that high-priced Defense Councilor was able to get the entire case thrown out (which was bullshit in her opinion considering that cops had been shot but somehow some clause about _business deals_ had been sold to purge the entire investigation about the shooting and everything involved with it), but that wasn't about to stop an uber-bitch fascist C-SEC Officer on a revenge trip to avenger her dead partner. Julia highly suspected that a great deal of graft and corruption was in the mix at several levels of Citadel Governance, and if FCN played their cards right…

"_Promote it. HEAVILY."_ Chairman leFlamme replied, not a gram of doubt or indecision in his voice. _"Fill the downtimes with the rest of the other views whenever necessary, but whatever happens? Catch it and show it."_

"All over it." Davenport replied as the line hung up. She put down the receiver and looked to her assistant. "We just got seeded, Paul. From the very top."

"Holy shit." Paul Watkins breathed out, his eyes wide. Christmas had just come _today_ for everyone involved with _LiveC-SEC_.

"Listen up, everyone!" Julia told the control room, all fifteen of her technicians looking to her. "Whatever happens, it goes out. _Live and unedited_." No doubt there was going to be fines and some squawking from some interests groups concerning violence on holovision and children. It would be more than made up with the absurd ratings and no-doubt intergalactic incident that was about to be filmed and broadcasted. They were getting subscriptions from viewers _in the fucking Hierarchy_ wanting to see what happened next. New subscriptions, renewals, messages and troupes were already burning through the ExtraNet like it was made out of Heavy Helium. "Bill! Throw out the 'violent content viewer discretion' warning as soon as we get back on." A look at the feed showed that the redheaded C-SEC Corporal was heading into the high-scale restaurant, right towards the front door. No lost subtlety, there. "As soon as the third commercial is off, we broadcast _everything_ that happens. No commercials, no cuts, no editing." They would still have to censor foul language, but anything else could be said as _unexpected development_ and they could cut the feed in the aftermath.

They were going to make so much fucking _money_ off this cop.

"Going back on in five…", her director, Mark Paul, called out. "Four… three… two… one… _plug!_"

"_Due to the violent nature of content,"_ the disclaimer began, _"viewer discretion is advised."_

And _Decantus _Shepard just reached the front door to the _Heart of Armali_ restaurant to settle a grudge as the feed began to broadcast in realtime.

"Perfect." Julia Davenport said with a smile.

* * *

**Orlop/Lower Outer Tract Precinct, Block 3850 (Lower Wards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

"No, Shepard. Please do _not_ go into that _vracking_ door."

_Prelate_ Britus Syltius watched in the squad room upon the general area's holovision monitor connected to the wall after someone had thought putting on some Human media corporations' idea of a law enforcement show a good idea in the middle of a C-SEC Precinct, showing _LiveC-SEC_. There were a few introductions of a few Human C-SEC Officers that had been undoubtedly ordered to do such a thing, traveling with an interactive journalist to highlight the duties and responsibilities of protecting and serving both t he law and the citizenry of the Citadel. Really, it was just some group of sireless _vracking_ barefaced _krruv_ making money off of a cops' efforts, undoubtedly being the first to cast the blame upon a hard-working Officer when a mistake was made. But when the segment showing his own came on air, _Decantus_ Jane Shepard of _his_ Precinct, his hearts fell. Britus had been _forced_ to suspend her a month without pay by some shellsucker back in the Presidium that never walked a corridor in their life. He heard her comment about him, about not making it personal. He had been forced to tell that to her too, but for his own reasons; he had lost two partners himself in the thirty years he wore badge and firearm serving the law. Shepard didn't know that or the details; it wasn't something he spoke of. But he knew what he was talking about.

He didn't blame her at all that she blew him off and was about to walk into the _Heart of Armali_. He would have in her place. _Krruv_, he would do it again for Travius and Alexus, having watched them die in the line-of-fire. The comment about Shaltis Adepdos and their children, Maxivus and Lutania, had his Spirit falter. Britus knew that Jane had spent her suspension helping Shaltis in her time of need, a grieving widow now a single _dam_ thanks to that sireless _vracking_ _clochea_ that Shepard was about to meet, likely in a rather violent manner.

The monitor showed that Shepard reached the door of the _Heart of Armali_, where a Turian in a nice professional robe and a datapadd with a checklist for guests manned it. Syltius scoffed at the sight of the doorbeing stepping in the way of a C-SEC Officer in her armor walking with intent to enter. The _Prelate_ knew that this was about to go down very badly; Shepard wouldn't be the first cop with a grudge to settle concerning a slain partner, but she certainly would be the first one to knowingly be filmed while settling said grudge.

"Varxsius? Call the Spirit of Valluvius Hospital and let them know they're about to have multiple inbound, somewhere in between critically injured and already deceased." Britus told his most senior _Centurion_, Varxsius Caldonis.

"What are we going to do?" Caldonis asked, his slightly-ovaloid eyes on the monitor, along with most of the Precinct personnel that happened to be in the Station instead out out in the corridors.

"Respond when we get a call." Syltius replied with a quirk of his mandible, looking to his longest-serving Officer of his Precinct. "That honorless cur wrote his own demise when he shot at my Officers. Do you really think I'm about to give him a gleaning of what's about to happen to him? I'm going to watch Shepard enter that cur's office and whatever happens I'm going to watch with a smile." No doubt there were Officers on the take in his Precinct that likely _had_ called the cur in question to warn him. Once the laser-guided torpedo that was _Decantus_ Jane Shepard had finished exploding, he would respond with a full investigative team straight for the data servers, hitting the books for every shipment, network, buyer, seller, and piece of graft he could find. And then he was going to rip its hearts out with his own talons with relish.

He just prayed to the Spirits that he wouldn't have to bury Jane, too. He knew that Maxivus and Lutania Adepdos would need their Human 'Aunt Jannie' with their sire Castis gone. Shaltis likely would also want Jane's help during that first several months when those grief-filled moments were the worst. Turian females were strong, understood the duties that a male must face for the Hierarchy and galaxy, and they fulfilled the role of bondmate and _dam_ with pride. But broken hearts were broken hearts, and they needed time to mend, as well as family.

_Spirits, please look out for Jane Shepard_, Britus Syltius prayed as he watched Shepard approach the doorbeing.

_And if it isn't too much to ask, take the day off for that _vrack_ing cur. He deserves whatever Shepard delivers him._

* * *

Author's Notes: I've worked on several ideas of a CopShep; Citadel Blues being one where Jane Shepard served four years in the Navy and then goes C-SEC and gets Garrus as a partner. As a joke, Cora Harper would have been Humanity's First SPECTRE if it continued, both Garrus and Shepard joining the Normandy as cops (Garrus as a sniper, and Shepard as a doorkicker). My dad ended up introducing me to _LivePD_ and I thought about the premise of a reality cop show on the Citadel; no introduction, just hit the ground rounding. So I went with it by coming up with the scenario of someone coming in halfway through an extensive case where everything went wrong and created the 'hard-boiled cop drama' that reminisces with _Dirty Harry_, _Lethal Weapon_, _End of Watch_, _Training Day_, and _Miami Vice_.

And who's head is Shepard gunning for? I purposely don't even tell you the species, but at the least it isn't an Asari since I used the word _'he'_, mono-gender thingie be damned.


	2. The Sandstorm, II

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. Concept based off the A&E Entertainment program 'LivePD'._

_**Heart of Armali**_** Restaurant, Block 3650 (Skywards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

* * *

Shepard Segment #3

**[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]**

**[POV trails behind Decantus/Corporal JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD as she approaches a multi-story restaurant named the **_**Heart of Armali**_**. Its name and decor suggests a Thessian-oriented restaurant, and the roped queue hots many Asarikin waiting, a few other species as well who were more-than-likely dates or bondmates of said Asari. SHEPARD ignores the line that snakes to one side and heads right for the front door manned by a Turian male in a well-to-do professional robe colored black with a datapadd in one hand; obviously the doorman. The Turian sees SHEPARD coming as POV hangs back slightly several paces away as a few Asari squawk at the sight of a fully-armored C-SEC Officer approaching the door as if she owned the place]**

TURIAN DOORMAN: Do you have a reservation, _Seras_?

CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: As a matter of fact, I do.

**[SHEPARD's hand darts into the Turian's robe and pulls out a pistol from the inside before the Turian can stop her. She has it pointed at the Turian's abdomen]**

JCS: Seems my friend Mister Carnifax here is on the list.** [SHEPARD holds up the pistol, a Cipritine Armory M-6 Carnifax, and shakes it slightly for emphasis]** And I'm sure he wants me go out in without any issues. I bet you do too unless you want me to remind you what happens to those who carry Cit-illegal firearms and those who carry concealed without the proper permits. My reservation?** [SHEPARD's tone is faux-cheerful]** Or shall I see about booking your reservation?

**[Pause]**

TDM: Welcome to the _Heart of Armali_, Officer.

JCS: Go ahead and let your boss know I'm coming up. I'm sure he's expecting me.** [SHEPARD charges the Carnifax's slide back, reaches in, and extracts a small copper cylinder. She drops it to the ground and smashes it with a boot before letting the Carnifax slip to the ground as well. POV looks down and sees the crushed component is a heat sink]** And don't forget to pick up your trash, Citizen. A littering fine seems so silly.

**[SHEPARD breezes right by the DOORMAN. POV follows obediently through a pair of apparently wooden doors on a station with no wood]**

JCS: Stick by my side, cookie dough. This place is a haven for real criminality.

**[POV sees a high-scale restaurant complete with dozens of dining tables with silk table cloths, expensive chinaware supporting food in too-small portions with sauces drizzled on the side artfully. Each table is filled with diners of multiple species wearing expensive clothing, and complementing the expensive looking decor is an expansive chandelier hanging from the ceiling and an Asari Maiden playing a harpsita]**

MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: **[Whispers]** _I… thought you said this was a place of real criminality?_

JCS: If you saw how much these dishes cost for several hundred grams worth of overpriced food, you'd want to arrest the chef, the owner, and the guy who thought all this opulence would make the prices digestible too. Pick up a menu and keep it as a memento. Technically they don't charge for it, so it isn't theft. 'Sides, if I dropped the whole surprise Food Health Inspector thingie on this place, I bet we find out the steak is really varren and pyjak hamburger heat-pressed to look like vantakar roast. Wouldn't surprise me, really.

**[POV looks to the establishment's diners, who are now looking at SHEPARD and POV]**

MPG: _Is this the part where we act natural and walk right in?_

JCS: This isn't a movie, cookie dough. [Beep] like that never works out.

**[SHEPARD walks right through the center of the dining room as if she owns the place. POV follows right behind her, and there is audible murmuring from the patrons as Asari waitresses in silk gowns and trays holding orders of food back away slowly from the lane of travel]**

JCS: Oh, if you start feeling sick to your stomach? That means someone is using their Biotic on you.

MPG: What do I do then?

JCS: Pray.

**[SHEPARD is halfway through the restaurant, and POV sees a set of stairs that leads up to an upper terrace]**

JCS: Ah, we have escorts.

**[POV looks left then right to see two armed Turians on either side, dressed in professional-looking robes over… armor. There is nothing in their taloned hands yet]**

JCS: Here to show me the office, boys? Or are we here to see what a dinner-refunder can do to someone with a stomach and a gizzard? It isn't pretty, let me tell you.

TURIAN: The boss would like to see you. **[TURIAN looks to POV]** Alone.

JCS: Why? He's a simple businessman according to his lawyer. He ought to have nothing to hide. Besides, this is a public restaurant, I'm a public servant, and he's a public citizen. You don't actually have the authority for someone who wishes to address the concerns of this restaurant to management. Unless… you have something to hide? Wouldn't look good at a Tribunal.

**[Pause]**

TURIAN: The boss will see the both of you.

JCS: After you. I insist.

**[POV sees two of the Turians take the lead, SHEPARD going behind them. POV follows SHEPARD and takes a look behind to see the other two Turians following, Carnifax pistols in their taloned hands. The Turians lead SHEPARD and POV to the stairs that they were already heading towards. The first two take to the stairs with SHEPARD following diligently, POV leading two armed Turians]**

JCS: Cookie dough, pull up your socks.

**[POV dips down much closer to the stairs, looking ahead as SHEPARD grabs the Turian in front of her and bodily throws him backwards. The Turian flies over POV and crashes into something behind. POV shifts fast to see three Turians tumbling down the stairs, landing at the bottom in a heap. POV shift back fast to see SHEPARD cracking the head of the TURIAN into a wall before throwing him over the stairs' banister and to the ground some distance below. POV shifts from the three in a heap and the one laying on the ground. None are moving. POV looks to SHEPARD]**

MPG: _Holy [__beep__]! You just took out four armed Turians single-handedly! With your bare hands!_

JCS: Bet you're glad you picked the cute redhead now.

MPG: _So… what do we do now?_

JCS: Next stop, boss level. Anonymous goons, pricey liquor, Asari concubines, and the big man himself. Drawers still dry, cookie dough?

**[POV looks to the Turians still lying on the ground at the bottom of the stairs]**

MPG: _Think you can actually nail this guy?_

JCS: Great thing about scumbags, they're always giving you second chances to nail them right and proper to a wall. Keep the mouth shut and the peepers open, and there's a pretty good chance we'll walk away from this breathing. **[SHEPARD smiles]** Get your big girl panties on nice and tight, cookie dough. You're about to meet a very important [beep]sucker.

* * *

**Headquarters, Future Content Network, New York City, New York, United North America, Earth, Sol System, Helios Cluster, February 8, 2175**

"Ma'am? I have a fairly decent dossier on the sapient that runs the _Heart of Armali_ restaurant."

Executive Producer Julia Davenport looked to the technician who was now handing her a datapadd copy of text pertaining to the being that _Detanus_ Jane Shepard was about to go meet as she watched the redhead cop ascent the last portion of stairs to head to the upper balcony where the office laid, no doubt. This entire sequence was turning out to be pure Eezo, and the scene where a Human woman just _obliterated_ four obvious Turian goons in a matter of seconds was straight-up Golden Globe material. She had practically whooped out in joy at the sight of Shepard turning the four Turian males into her personal bitches, and knew that would strike a chord with just about everyone everywhere. Humans would be cheering on the Human woman that just thrashed the shit out of some Turians that were quite obvious atypical henchmen. The Turians, civic-minded and duty-bound, wouldn't shed any tears over the defeat of four of their kin, and would see Shepard for what she was; a cop hellbent on setting things right, something right up their alley. Asari Maidens were probably swooning over the plot and the action, the hotblooded Maidens one of the biggest draws for action vids, romcoms, and crime dramas. Who knew what the others might think, but with the kind of demographics that they were getting updates on on a _minute_ basis was showing that ratings, messages, subscriptions, and requests were spiking upwards hard. Even if Shepard lost her job today, this would likely be the most watched episode of the _year_ for any show!

"Start typing. I want the basics and keep going marquee-style before that hothead reaches the office door." Julia told the technician as she looked to Paul Watkins, her assistant practically _WonderGel'ed_ to his terminal. He was running the analysis not only for the shows ratings and how many messages throughout the various social media outlets throughout the ExtraNet, but also how many times the words '_LiveC-SEC'_, '_Shepard'_ and surprisingly _'dead redhead walking'_ was coming up on the ExtraNet.

There was even a betting pool going on through a various amount of bets, from the species and identity of the man in question, to how many thugs would be at the 'boss level', if it were going to be a shootout, and several different demographics on the amount of survivors going from 'zero' to 'two'.

God this cop was making them so much fucking money. If she could, Julia would be there now with a vid-corder visor on her face only so she could get an extra angle.

"They're approaching the door, ma'am." Another technician called out as Julia looked at the main monitor that displayed Mike Greene's POV. He was a rookie journalist at best, but his testicle size was in no doubt what-so-ever; this kid from Columbia University was _following_ a vengeance-fueled cop into a highly-suspected shootout with a man that had ordered and/or paid for the murder of her Turian partner, _Centurion_ Castis Adepdos. _LiveC-SEC_ had been an idea pushed by Future Content Network as a way to monopolize on the tensions running in between the Turian Hierarchy and the Systems Alliance, hotter on the Citadel thanks to the heavily-mixed population there. The network had sold the idea to the Human Embassy on the Citadel as a way to ease the tensions on the Citadel and in Earth Alliance Space by showcasting Humans on the Citadel that were above-and-beyond the normal man; Citadel Security Service Officers. It was to be raw, edgy, and realistic; just the way Humans liked their violence. While it wouldn't necessarily _ease_ the tensions, it would likely _distract_ people from some of the worst of it and possibly be a little bit of a valve for the pot that threatened to boil over. Showing Human cops arresting criminals of a variety of species, showing them having to face the same discriminations but able to deal with it, having to work for a system that looked down at them but easing it back because there was another Human with a recording device that would transmit and broadcast it? It was an idea that had its risks… and its rewards.

And then Michael Patrick Greene had done what Julia Davenport hoped what some male reporter would do; he went straight for a cute female cop. Thankfully, there happened to be one, and a redhead, to boot.

There was no question about it; _Decantus_ Jane Shepard was pure Eezo, and the numbers reflected.

"They're at the door." One technician called out.

"Ready to roll info marquee as soon as we see the boss." Julia already had an idea who it was, though it wasn't as obvious as some would suspect. She had found the name, made some guesses, and linked the name to three dozen shadier businesses that ranged a good deal more than just what a restaurant owner might be into. Oh, she didn't doubt Shepard was absolutely correct; the boss was rich as fuck, had been indicted and subpoenaed a dozen times but nothing ever sticked, and donated heavily to certain campaigns, parties, and interest groups that themselves had some shadier portions to them. The asshole-in-question was a legit asshole, and someone was about to knock on his door and give him his well-deserved just desserts.

And Julia was about to have the whole damn thing recorded and broadcasted live for potential _billions_ to watch as they hanged off the edges of their seats.

_Please survive this debacle, Shepard, and I will _personally_ beg the Chairman to reinstate you if you lose your badge,_ Julia thought as she watched Shepard and Greene reach the balcony where a door awaited them.

It was about Goddamn time the public got to see a cop with some balls and gave criminals something to fear.

* * *

**Office of the Human Embassy, Embassy District, Upper Ring, Presidium, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

Ambassador Anita Goyle, like everyone else in her office, was watching holovision.

One of the office workers had plucked up the knowledge that something big was going down through one of the Human-Citadel social media boards, and had turned on the Future Content Network channel for the second segment when this Human cop by the name of _Decantus_/Corporal Jane Catherine Shepard had illuminated everyone with a subscription to violence and intergalactic incidences that she was pretty much going to kick in a door and execute whatever miscreant had killed her partner. Anita had caught up with the previous segment where Shepard had pretty much been filmed without knowledge or consent, showing a bit of a foul-mouthed, slightly-racist Citadel Security Service Officer with too-hard eyes and a force of personality about a parsec wide. But when she had announced that she was going after her partners' killer, everything kind of exploded on the ExtraNet. The show had switched to a more prosaic portion with a _Hasti_/Officer Brian Jackson who patrolled the Mid-Ring of the Presidium having to deal with a too-preachy Hanar who glowed/complained about not being able to proselytize wherever he wanted about the Enkindlers while a little rolling marquee of information had a potential countdown of the best guesstimate of when the show would return to Shepard and whoever this 'cookie dough' person was.

When Shepard described what happened to her _Turian_ partner, Anita knew… just _knew_ that there was going to be a bloodbath and an intergalactic incident on her hands. And she found herself rather okay with it.

Before the holovision had gone onto the program _LiveC-SEC_, Anita had never heard of one _Decantus_/Corporal Jane Catherine Shepard. And a part of her felt a little bad about that, seeing what was being touted as 'the only Human female cop on the Citadel' (which according to the Future Content Network's Netsite as well as the scrolling marquee info bar connected to the show, she was). Oh, Anita didn't doubt that when whomever came up with the idea of having an interactive reality cop show, that some woman Officer would end up being broadcasted; equal opportunity would be there, and for some reason Humanity just _loved_ getting behind an underdog and the sight of a woman in a 'man's world' and making it work was right at the very top. Goyle guess she should have been happy to see that this Corporal Shepard was apparently a tough-as-nails C-SEC Officer that was certainly in the realm of cute/good-looking and wasn't supporting a double-wide ass and whining about how women were men's equals while complaining about doing the heavy lifting at the same time. There was no real feminist message being touted out that somehow always managed to come up, and the poor idiot with the camera (likely a recording visor of some kind that had been a recent innovation in the past year) wasn't much of a real reporter; most every question had been pertaining to the 'what are we doing now?' variety. Yet in the grand total of an hour that what was being called the 'Shepard Segment', the show had probably gone from 'a typical cop show' to 'work just stopped galaxy-wide'.

And Shepard herself? The modern-day Dirty Harry, evidently.

"Madame Ambassador? The Volus Ambassador is on the line." One of her interns informed her, and Anita gave the young woman a brush-off gesture. First, she despised Ambassador Din Korlak. Second, as soon as Anita saw exactly _where_ Shepard was heading, in her heart she knew what was about to happen. Goyle knew of the _Heart of Armali_ restaurant… and knew its proprietor and owner as well. Actually, he owned a lot more than a restaurant, and was fairly well-known in the upper social circles of the Citadel (meaning the rich and powerful). _Heart of Armali_ had been all the rage a year or two back when the Consort Sha'ira T'vessa had visited the location and called the food 'divine', prompting just about every Asari on the station to go visit it. Yet the owner… Anita knew him. Had met him. He was in galas and political-sponsored parties in the Cit, one of those background characters that it was always a good idea to have a word or two with in case come campaing contributions were needed or a favor was required. That he wasn't completely legitimate was of no surprise to Anita Goyle; at this level, _nobody_ was.

But Shepard had said that she had been investigating a Sand trafficking operation that had gotten her shot and her partner killed.

Anita wondered… realizing that it was a distinct possibility.

The owner of the _Heart of Armali_ was quite wealthy; a low billionaire in a station where trillionaires graced the Presidium. He owned a restaurant, but that was hardly the biggest chit in his Credit pool. He ran a transportation service, owned mineral claims on at least half-a-dozen worlds that Anita knew of, had stock and investments in energy corporations, had some sort of refinery somewhere in Illium Space, owned a garage in Noveria…

_Minerals, transportation, refinery outside of Council Space, possible warehouse outside of Council Space…_

Shepard had said that she and her partner had been tracking a Sand operation… and Red Sand was laced with Elemental Zero.

Red Sand was a recent drug that had cropped up some time in the past ten years, since her tenure as the Human Ambassador. Anita had no idea who thought it was a good idea to put Eezo into a drug, but considering that most narcotics were made with a variety of ingredients that were poisonous to sapients, she guessed it was only a matter of time when 'blue gold' came up as a possibility. Extremely addictive, Red Sand to the normal sapient turned a person into a hyperactive jackass with little inhibitions and a propensity towards aggressive behavior and confrontation, usually heading towards violence. A hyperstimulant, it was introduced into a sapients' biochemistry through the eyes, a drop of liquid that was usually squeezed from a dropper or sprayed with a mist right into the optical cortex for delivery into the bloodstream and bypassing the blood-brain barrier. A Red Sand user (the common term was a 'Sander') was generally pretty noticeable even to the common sapient due to the visual cues that were obvious; someone actively looked as if they were bleeding bloody tears out of their eyes, their corneas so bloodshot that their eyes almost looked red from a short distance away. Someone that used the drug for a short period of time or longer would get permanent bloodshot eyes, the lids red-rimmed and swollen, and the flesh underneath the optical cortex stained slightly crimson, as if they had recently wept profusely.

That was a normal person.

Then there were the Biotics.

Someone a few centuries back (likely an Asari) figured out that ingesting refined Eezo 'supercharged' a sapients' latent Biotic potential and abilities. Considering that Biokinetics had Eezo Nodes laced through their lymphatic system, introducing _more_ Eezo into the system certainly made sense in a chemical fashion. While 'Biotic supplements' did contain micrograms of 'blue gold', it was highly regulated, very expensive, and only contained a very small percentage based on weight for the supplement. It was meant to 'enhance' a Biotic's ability, but no one needed some Asari or Cabalist walking around professing that they were a Biotic God or some such drivel, so the drug was only produced in small quantities and highly controlled by the various governments of the galaxy. Something like only ten-thousand a year were made, and distribution was handled by a company that made sure its employees were paid well enough that trying to have some 'fall off the transporter' or smuggled was extremely unlikely. The fact that Asari _Justicars_ were generally the ones that guarded the Biotic supplements also dissuaded any possible graft attempts or theft attempts. Those pills were only available to certain persons of certain professions, certainly not the public, and very expensive per dose.

Then someone went and made Red Sand.

The Biotic supplement was an ingestible pill; one swallowed it, the stomach (or its equivalent depending on the species) broke it down and the body naturally took the drug through the natural digestive process, meaning that it took a few minutes to work, and it would be somewhat diluted due to time and the fact that the drug would have to go through a few chemical processes before reaching the blood stream… and then the brain. But Red Sand bypassed all of that by being droppered or sprayed into the eyes, being delivered to the brain in seconds in a much more concentrated form, and without regulations to microsize the dose. As Anita understood it, Biotic supplement pills contained a microgram of Eezo. Red Sand could contain as much as the producer wanted it to contain, and like with most narcotics, the more the merrier. While the Ambassador didn't know the street price of Red Sand, she knew it to be _cheaper_ than the Biotic supplement pill… but still pretty pricey.

Red Sand had come to light about eight-to-ten years ago when the Thessian Professional BiotiBall Team, the Serrice Shores, had all popped hot for Eezo supplementation after their so-called 'miracle season' where they had pretty much stomped the shit out of everyone in every game they played to achieve a never-been-recorded-before perfect seasons. Of course t he swollen lids, red tears, and bloodshot eyes on the Maiden BiotiBall players by the end of the season had clued the Professional BiotiBall League that something was wrong, and the Championship had been _canceled_ when not only all of the members of the Serrice Shores had tested positive for illegal Biotic supplementation, but also their rivals as well who had discovered the Shores' little miracle and had just started buying up Red Sand a week or two prior to the scandalous revelation. The largest match in the galaxy had been canned due to Red Sand, and the galactic public became fully aware of the brand-new drug. So did drug-users.

Red Sand was a _very_ popular drug, as Anita understood it.

"Madame Ambassador, Ambassador Korlak is calling again." The intern told her once more, pouting.

"What the fuck does he expect me to do? I'm not C-SEC, nor do I have a magic button that controls every Human Being in existence." Anita snapped at the college-aged girl with the full pouty lips and lack of a credible spine. Oh, she knew why Din was probably in a frothy rage inside of his pressure suit, no doubt watching the same program _she_ was watching. As soon as the _Heart of Armali_ showed up on the screen, Goyle kind of figured she been getting a call from a certain Ambassador who was now hitting the panic button as fast, as hard, and as much as possible.

_[hwurk], I'm so screwed, [hwurk]_, Anita thought nastily as she mentally imitated a Voline's normal speech pattern while encased in their pressure suits as the Human Ambassador watched the program, silently crossing her fingers.

_Shepard, please do me a favor and be right,_ Goyle thought as the door to the 'boss level' appeared right in front of the C-SEC Officer. _And then throw out that 'do you feel lucky, punk?' line before blowing that little shit's head off._

_Lord knows I've thought about doing it a time or two myself before finding out he's into trafficking Sand._

* * *

**Orlop/Lower Outer Tract Precinct, Block 3850 (Lower Wards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

_Now_ the calls were coming in.

_Prelate_ Britus Syltius was the _Prelate_-in-charge of the _Orlop/Lower_ Wards of the Outer Tract Section of the Zakera Arm. There were five levels to each of the Arms of the Citadel, known as 'Wards'. They were, ascending to descending, the Skywards, Upper Wards, Mid-Wards, Lower Wards, and the Orlop Wards, generally called 'the Scows'. To each Arm there were nine five-kilometer long portions known as 'Sections'. They were, going from the Presidium to the very end of the Citadel, Ringside, Inner Tract, CoreWard, Frost Line, Mid-Arm, Outer Band, RimWard, Outer Tract, and The Enders. He was basically in charge of a twenty-five square kilometer area that was pretty much at the very bottom and the furthest end of the most crime-laden Arm of the Citadel.

What was going on in the _Skywards_ was outside of his jurisdiction. Oh, he _could_ intervene, but he wouldn't.

"Can't believe Shepard took out four males like that."

Syltius looked to his _Primus Centurion_, Varxsius Caldonis, who watched the holovision monitor just like everyone else in the OLOT(Zakera) Precinct, watching _Decantus_ Jane Shepard approaching the door of the man that had (no doubt in _his_ mind) killed _Centurion_ Castis Adepdos when the pair were running a Sand sting looking not for buyers, sellers, and users, but the big leagues; transporters, financiers, storage, and those who somehow smuggled it in through Customs. It had been a four-month operation that had been called _Operation: Sandstorm_ that involved the six Officers that Syltius knew were both ground level and not accepting graft. Law enforcement corruption was, sadly, a very real thing especially down in the belly of the Citadel so far from the Rings, where the gangs and syndicates could easily bribe an Officer to look the other way. The Red Sand business had a great deal of Credits to play with, and about half of any operation meant to tackle the issue stalled out due to corruption, lawyers, bureaucrats, or social media crying about Officers being to hard on the trash and filth that made civilization rot and decay. Disgusting, really.

So Britus had gotten six Officers that he knew bore no love for narcotics, made a silent operation that would undoubtedly have a _s'kak_storm come down upon his fringe because he didn't get approval through the C-SEC Academy (where he suspected more than a few Officers of that location aiding and abetting some of those failed investigations while on the take), and let them off the hook to do their damn jobs. If they could make a dent in the operations, Britus would easily take the repercussions for himself knowing that somewhere out in the black some sireless _vracking_ whore was crying about loss profits. _Billions_ of Credits were involved in the Red Sand trade alone, and Syltius was tired of his Officers having to respond to Sander-related violence calls or picking up the pieces of a broken family when one overdosed and died gurgling on their own tongue and mucus.

It was sickening to know that the public cried that something should be done to stop such things while handcuffing the very efforts in order to do so.

"She's a corridor cop, not some chair-riding _prax_ who gripes about physical training standards and firearm proficiency qualifications." The _Prelate_ snorted to his most senior subordinate, nodding his fringed head sagely. He had already known that Jane Shepard was the last remaining Human female C-SEC Officer in the entirety of the Citadel, the dozen or so others that had gone through the Academy's Training Program having quit before they had done a year with one other exception of one having taken maternity retirement since that female had a hatchling without a bondmate (Husband? Was that the term?). As far as Britus was aware, there wasn't another Human female in the ATP's four-month course, either, making Jane Shepard literally the _only_ one wearing Citadel Blues; Officer or Trainee. That had a certain level of respect in his mind, and it was _Prelate_ Syltius that had delivered that tidbit to Shepard some nine months prior. Jane hadn't really cared, calling the others 'weak-sauce' (Humans and their strange vernacular!) and moved along with her duties. _Centurion _Adepdos had been willing to take a Human partner, a Turian willing to give it a shot with a species that they had warred with not too long ago. Syltius was a stubborn _Serah_ and only saw two species in the galaxy; law-abiders, and lawbreakers. He really didn't give a _s'kak_ if a Quarian showed up wishing to join C-SEC as long as they did their job right. He wasn't fond of 'weak-sauce' either.

Jane had proved her mettle a thousand times over in the past three years since taking the Badge, a Civil Patrol Officer in one of the most crime-infested areas of the Citadel where survival wasn't always assured and the crime index statistics showed that _his_ Precinct of a million had something like fourteen-hundred and nine minor crimes and eight hundred and sixty-four major crimes a month. Spirits alone knew if that statistic was accurate or not. Two-thousand, two hundred and seventy-three crimes a month in a population of a million didn't sound like a lot, but when one barely cleared five _percent_ for response? It was hearts-breaking.

Still, watching Shepard handing four barefaced _klepnaks_ their _clocheas_ back to them in such a quick and totalitarian manner like that had Syltius quite should have the scum defecating themselves like hatchlings with gizzard problems at the sight of a _real_ Officer of the Law.

Of the six Officers he had put on _Operation: Sandstorm_, only one of them was still breathing. And she was about to wreck havoc in a disastrous level.

As _Decantus_ Jane Shepard's _Prelate_, Britus Syltius was more than intimate with the shooting investigation that landed Shepard in Spirit of Valluvius Hospital and Adepdos in the Fatality Ward. The loss of one Officer and the potential loss of another (Jane had been shot twice and had been listed at critical-and-unstable condition when arriving at the Emergency Care Room) had _Prlate_ Syltius land on the investigation, personally leading it himself since Castis had died shot in the back seven times from a Cit-illegal weapon. Within two days, he had gotten all the evidence, leads, interviews, reports, follow-ups, and confessions, supplementing all that Adepdos and Shepard had gleaned, having done most of the stepwork themselves and Syltius merely putting in the final touches that would have the sapient that hired the murderer fry in the heart of a Class A Stellar Supergiant Star or crushed in a Supermassive Black Hole. He had handed the case right to the Citadel's Department of Judicial Prosecution himself, making sure those plateless curs understood that the case involved one expired Officer, and one that was still in critical-but-stable condition. At the very least, Britus would make sure that _vracking_ barefaced worthless cur _burned_ for killing a good male and putting a good female in the hospital, unknown if she would ever be able to serve her post again due to her wounds.

He should have known that _she_ would get involved, though.

Defense Councilor Jynessa T'mala was the bane of law enforcement endeavors. An extremely high-priced Legal Councilor, the Matron made her living taking high-publicity cases to exonerate pieces of filth by dramatizing how such 'model citizens' were being harassed by law enforcement while committing crimes. She had been the go-to Defense Councilor for at least the past century, and every time she took a case, Citadel Security was inevitably to take a cracked eyeplate as well as dolling out restitution fees to some lawbreaker who had their acts exonerated with a wide variety of technicalities and legal doggerel, meaning that some cur would have every bit of evidence tossed out of court (because sadly the Matron was _that_ good) and any chance of getting the rich scum to pay for their crimes would have to start fresh _without_ any mention of the previously-mentioned crime.

That was exactly what happened with _Centurion _Adepdos and _Decantus_ Shepard.

Slytius hadn't been subtle with his case when he took it to the Department of Judicial Prosecution; anything that he could prove in the case from Red Sand to the hit on his Officers had been included so the sireless cur could rot in an IsoCube for the rest of his days or spend a nice lifetime vacation one one of three Supermax Prison Facilities on planetary hellholes known for their vast difficulties in escaping. But when Councilor T'mala had taken the case, her first motion in front of the Judicial Tribune had been the denial of the use of her clients' _name_ in court, and then the denial of any kind of media coverage. Then she had shockingly used some sort of legal technicality that was generally used for _business deals_ to get all the evidence that Castis and Jane had collected and Britus had re-verified and delivered, including the assassination and assassination attempt, thrown out of court. It had been so sickening to see the entire case not only thrown out of court, but to have that _vracking_ blue _whore_ call _his_ Officers incompetent while filing for motions to have _Decantus_ Jane Shepard removed from duty permanently. Britus had his hearts broken knowing he had failed the both of them completely, that scum never even needing to show up to court so he could continue to sell his poison and get fat and rich off of the customers he destroyed with Sand. The sapient behind the door that Jane was about to enter was about to get what was coming to him, and what was there to stop her? Him?

Stop her? _Vrack_ no. If he could, Britus would love to stand there and watch. As it was, he still got pretty good seats to the show, so to speak.

* * *

Author's Notes: Probably should have mentioned that the style of writing from the POV/Mike Greene is mostly done in the way of screenplays for a movie/TV show, but in this case it is describing the actual action, which is why there are no quotation marks or real explanations on things like I normally do. It is basically written as if you were watching a television show. It's not an elegant form of writing, but it comes off raw and unedited; which is the point.

I called Mike Greene _Serah_ in he previous chapter, and is the Turian word for 'sir'. Jane Shepard got _Seras_ for the female version, ma'am. I stole the first time from BioWare's _DragonAge_ forever ago but I don't think I've ever officially explained it.

Shepard mentions using a 'dinner-refunder' on a Turian. This comes from _Where The Law Stands Tall_, a PacRod (Pacification Rod) known as the Biological Regurgitation Device. It induces vomiting as a non-lethal attack.

In Canon, Red Sand was created/invented on Mars with the use of Eezo… which is against Canon. The very little Eezo that Earth Space had came from ancient Prothean ships (so ship-grade Eezo). But the galaxy's most valuable mineral was also used for snorting or some such other nonsense. The name of these chapters, '_Sandstorm_', comes from _A Fox Amongst The Wolves_ and the idea that I had that would go into the Red Sand trade. Making it an eyedropper-induced drug is of my own creation.

And I did invent a Biotic Performance-Enhancing Drug. Makes sense, actually.

I did possibly _tease_ what the bad guy might be (I wanted to be subtle, but I might have flubbed it). But I went and dregged up a canon character to make up 'a boss'. You can spraypaint as many OC's as you like, but people want to see villains go down, and the more established the better. Why so serious?

Like I did with _Where The Law Stands Tall_, I bring up some cop politics and point-of-views. Some are my own, others are not. But then I introduced the views of others as things are going down. Because that does happen.

I use the term _sire_ and _dam_ for the Turians. _Sire_ is the Canon term for 'father' for the Turians, and is Middle-English in origins, borrowing from the Latin word _Senior_. So for mothers, I went with the Middle-English term, _Dam_, which becomes '_dame_' or 'lady'.


	3. The Sandstorm, III

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. Concept based off the A&E Entertainment program 'LivePD'._

**Boss Level,**_** Heart of Armali**_** Restaurant, Block 3650 (Skywards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

**Shepard Segment #4**

**NARRATOR: DUE TO THE GRAPHICAL NATURE OF THIS CONTENT, VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.**

* * *

**[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]**

**[POV trails behind Decantus/Corporal Jane Catherine Shepard as she reaches the top of the flight of stairs, where a door blocks access to the upper balcony. The automated access device to the left of the door is currently showing a red icon, indicating that it is locked. SHEPARD presses the holographic image, but the icon stays red]**

MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: _Panic room?_

CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: Being in a panic and being in a room does not a panic room make, young Padawan. Watch and learn the magical mysteries of opening locked doors while C-SEC, my young apprentice.

**[SHEPARD lifts up her left arm, which is now wreathed in a blue holographic skin. She places her palm on the interface, a circular blue ring surrounding her hand as four holographic switches appear just above her fingers. Each of the four blink quickly in a random pattern, equaling about fourteen or so 'blinks'. SHEPARD then uses her fingers to input the same pattern, turning the icon blue]**

JCS: Viola! Emergency override code for First Responders and Emergency Personnel. **[SHEPARD looks to POV]** Able to unlock most any door on the Cit that way, but only so long as you have a Cit-assigned OmniTool and don't mind your DNA and pic being taken by AVINA.

**[SHEPARD draws her pistol out, auto-configuring into activation mode, sliding the action back slightly to inspect it, and then clicks it forward before reholstering it on her right hip after it collapses back to carrying mode]**

MPG: _Please tell me that's a really awesome pistol._

JCS: It's a Smith and Wesson Model 44 Magnum-Weight Duty Pistol. Fires a ten gram slug.

**[POV looks at SHEPARD for a moment before SHEPARD sighs]**

JCS: It's the most powerful handgun allowed in C-SEC.

MPG: _Great. I'm traveling with Dirty Harry-ette._

JCS: Who? **[POV just shakes left and right]** Nevermind. Get your game face on, cookie dough. I'm about to pop your cherry.

**[SHEPARD toggles the door access to have the door slide open as she strides inside, POV following dutifully behind her]**

**[POV stands to one side as SHEPARD walks into the middle of a fair-sized room occupied with seven other sapients. POV does a quick scan of the room seeing four standing Turians in professional-looking robes over armor and stubby-looking two-handed firearms that look like submachine guns or carbine assault rifles, two standing Asari dressed in Thessian-oriented clothing that leaves very little to the imagination, one armed with a bottle of liquor for pouring, and the other with a tray containing hor d'oeuvre appetizers, and the figure that sits at the only desk in the room; the boss]**

**[SCROLLING MARQUEE: PITNE FOR, FOR-CLAN, IRUNE]**

JCS: Pitne! Been a few weeks. Happy to see me?

PITNE FOR: [_hwurk_] Decantus Shepard, [_hwurk_] an unexpected surprise, [_hwurk_], to be sure.

JCS: Still as full of [beep] as ever, For-Clan. How's business? Heard you took a pretty good hit to the profits last month hiring the blue whore to keep your little gasbag [beep] out of prison. Did you get a free lapdance out of the deal? The way she can tapdance in a Tribunal, I bet she's no slouch on a stage with a brass pole. Hope she was worth every Credit, Pitne.

PF: Baseless accusations, [hwurk] will get you nowhere, [hwurk] Earth-Clan. I am, [hwurk] a simple businessman, [hwurk] who is still being accosted [hwurk] by aggressive members of [hwurk] Citadel Security Services.

JCS: Cry me a [beep]ing river, 'simple businessman'. No Goddamn wobble is a simple businessman. Does a simple businessman get invited to political parties, charity events, benefit balls, and Citadel Commerce meetings? I mean, let's tally the investments, shall we? **[SHEPARD turns towards POV]** Besides this fine-dining establishment, there's the mineral claims at at least half-a-dozen sites throughout the galaxy, the transportation company that runs goods in and out of Illium Space as well as Noveria Space, a minor shareholder in a few energy companies, and your hard-earned Credits earning a good annual percentage at the very respectable Galactic Financial Credit Union; the galaxy's largest financial institution. **[SHEPARD turns to PITNE FOR]** Pretty good for a simple businessman, Pitne. Perhaps you should do those motivational speaker gigs people pay thousands on the hopes of a 'get-rich-quick' scheme. Make more money off of people. You're good at that, after all.

PF: We all have, [_hwurk_] our special talents, [hwurk], Shepard-Clan. Yours, [_hwurk_] is sticking your snout, [_hwurk_] where it doesn't belong. [_hwurk_] You have overstayed your welcome, [_hwurk_] and I believe [_hwurk_] you know where the door is.

JCS: Y'know, funny you mention sticking noses where they don't belong, pint-sized. **[SHEPARD saunters to one side of the room under the gaze of four Turians, two Asari, a Volus, and POV, heading towards a fully-stocked bar alongside one wall]** It's nice to know that your high-priced whore got you off without you so much as seeing the inside of a courtroom much less serving a day in jail.** [SHEPARD picks up a crystal decanter of an amber liquid, uncorks it, sniffs it, wrinkles her nose and puts it back]** How much did that set you back, by the way? Getting her to get all the evidence of the investigation and shooting tossed and destroyed? I guess I should be happy you didn't get away Scot-free.

PF: There is, [_hwurk_] a legal injunction, [_hwurk_] against mentioning of such, [_hwurk_] falsified evidence, [_hwurk_] Shepard-Clan. This, [_hwurk_] will cost you your badge.

JCS: Got you smiling in that suit of yours, wobbly? **[SHEPARD picks up another bottle and test-sniffs it]** That's Armali Rosewine. **[SHEPARD looks to POV]** Probably older than all of us put together. **[SHEPARD stoppers the bottle and sets it on the shelf but not quite completely, and the bottle tips and falls to the ground, shattering]** Whoops. I guess your next shipment can cover that one, simple businessman. Never met anyone who could afford a hundred thousand Credit bottle of four century-old Asari booze. But where was I before? Ah, yes, the sticking of noses where they don't belong. I guess I should thank you that the evidence got completely and utterly tossed out of the Tribunal and force-destroyed by Citadel authorities, Pitne. If I had any left, I would be forced to build up another case to use it against you. But now? Now without any physical evidence to make me follow the rules, all I have is what's up here. **[SHEPARD points to her own head]** You should have gone for the head, Pitne. Hope the hitman didn't charge too much for a botched job halfway done.

PF: Need I remind you, [_hwurk_] that you are outnumbered?

JCS: With… them?** [SHEPARD laughs as moves from the liquor cabinet to the desk, sitting on its surface right in the front and middle]** These boot-camp rejects? I'm honestly kind of shocked they know which end of those KAL-25's the rounds come out of. I mean, pretty stupid using Hierarchy Reservist Civilian Carbine Rifles as a show-of-force. Practically popguns. Hope the goons aren't cutting too much into the profit margin, Pitne. Cheap thugs tend to run at the first sign of losing.

PF: You have nothing on me, [_hwurk_] Shepard-Clan.

JCS: Not on the Citadel, I don't. But for someone who's interested in business transactions in other locations in the galaxy, one might be interested in the unauthorized visits of one of your vessels going back and forth from Illium and other portions throughout the Traverse and Terminus.

PF: Supposition.

JCS: Of course it is! Be a shame if someone traced that half-cooked shady vessel registration that isn't at all connected with with your transo company, the ITV _Stortar Sharvan_. I'm sure that [beep] little bad hack-job passes with flying colors with the highly bribeable Nos Astra Corporate Police Department on Illium, but some people have a good deal more money than what you can afford to graft, Pitne.

**[Pause]**

JCS: People like the Sapphire Queen, Pitne.

PF: You have nothing, [_hwurk_] _Decantus_.

JCS: I don't, that's true. Which means if I blurb, there's no investigation I can taint. Like for instance, **[SHEPARD reaches over to the hor d'oeuvre tray, plucks an appetizer, and pops it into her mouth]** the little smugglers' cove you had drilled under the Domes' eighth dock, where you had a ventilation shaft installed to chute stolen Eezo right out from under the Sapphire Queen's nose without you having to announce it, declare it, pay the tariffs, or the taxes. Pretty ballsy, Pitne, [beep]ing over the Sapphire Queen. **[SHEPARD makes a clicking noise with her tongue]** And all of your money, stock, deeds, and company paperwork held and protected by Galactic Financial, too. You do realize that she's the CEO, majority stockholder, and Chairman of the Board of Directors all rolled in one, right? Pretty [beep]ing stupid screwing over the most powerful sapient being in the galaxy, simple businessman.

**[SHEPARD looks to one of the Turians]**

JCS: Wouldn't be surprised if you boys get a call here in a few minutes with some monetary incentive involving a nice escort gig to a vessel heading to Omega. Play the cards right, and you come out rich instead of dead.

PF: Aria will never find out, [_hwurk_] Shepard-Clan.

JCS: Really?

**[SHEPARD turns to POV]**

JCS: Meet my producer.

**[POV sees one Turian touching something on the side of his fringed head, as if listening to something for a moment. The Turian then looks to POV and nods]**

MPG: Mister Pitne For? Mike Green with Future Content Network.

PF: [_hwurk_] What?

MPG: Just who is this Sapphire Queen, Mister For? I've never heard of her, and I'm sure the audience would like to know.

**[Another Turian is touching the side of his head]**

PF: [_hwurk_] Audience?

JCS: Of course! You just so happening to be the star of the new interactive reality police crime drama series, LiveC-SEC, Pitne. And we've been broadcasting live for a bit now.

**[A third Turian is touching the side of his head. PITNE FOR is facing the wrong way from the Turians and can't see it]**

JCS: What was your favorite part, Mike? The part where he admitted _galactically_ to [beep]ing over Aria T'loak, the Sapphire Queen of the Terminus and Omega? The richest, most powerful singular individual in the galaxy? I was almost hoping he would twirl those little cloth danglers beside his masks' snout like a mustache when he said 'hwurk Aria doesn't know [beep], hwurk'. The next question should be 'what do you think Aria, ruler of non-Council Spaces, is going to do to him'?

**[The last Turian is touching the side of his head. POV moves towards the desk]**

MPG: Mister For, what is your response when you discover your hired help was just outsourced? **[SHEPARD laughs]**

PF: [_hwurk_] What?

**[Two taloned hands land on the shoulders of PITNE FOR. The Volus looks up and over to see two Turians looming over him. There is no pity in their plated faces]**

TURIAN: Her Majesty has requested your presence in a meeting, Serah For.

**[PITNE FOR looks right at SHEPARD still sitting on top of his desk]**

PF: Please, Shepard-Clan, [hwurk], do something. I'll [hwurk] make it worth [hwurk] your involvement.

JCS: Hmm, let me think about it.

**[SHEPARD helps herself to another hor d'oeuvre]**

JCS: Crap! I totally forgot about that legal injunction! I can't associate with you! Might cost me my badge! Must have slipped my mind, silly of me.

**[SHEPARD shrugs]**

JCS: 'Fraid I can't help you, Pitne. I just got off a month-long suspension without pay, and I don't think I want to risk my career at this point in time.

**[SHEPARD takes another hor d'oeuvre]**

JCS: Enjoy your meeting, For-Clan. I'm sure Her Majesty will be quite interested in all the things you'll have to say. You're probably going to be praying for prison compared to what the Sapphire Queen has planned for you.

**[SHEPARD slides off the desk]**

JCS: Goodbye, Pitne. Have fun being tortured for the next five years or so. The Asari are nothing but patient, and Her Majesty probably has the best medical care available to keep you alive for quite a long time. Examples are set for a reason, after all.

**[SHEPARD turns to POV, nods, and makes for the door at a walking pace]**

PF: [_hwurk_] Shepard-Clan?

JCS: Just walk without looking back, cookie dough. So much cooler that way.

**[POV turns when SHEPARD passes by, following]**

PF: [_hwurk_] Shepard-Clan!

**[SHEPARD and POV reaches door as it opens, and POV exits right after SHEPARD, never looking back]**

PF: [_hwurk_] SHEPAR-

**[The door closes, cutting off the voxed voice]**

* * *

**Headquarters, Future Content Network, New York City, New York, United North America, Earth, Sol System, Helios Cluster, February 8, 2175**

Executive Producer Julia Davenport stood in the middle of her control room, absolutely and completely unable to believe what she had just seen. She had expected some sort of action vid shootout bullshit. She had expected to see this revenge trip end in bloodshed. Instead… instead…

_Did that just fucking happen on holovision?_, she thought to herself with a little shiver.

Still… the ratings were proving it.

_Best… show… ever!_

* * *

**Office of the Human Embassy, Embassy District, Upper Ring, Presidium, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

"Holy shit." Ambassador Anita Goyle breathed out, amazed by what she had just saw. She had fully expected everyone in that room to be dead or dying within the first minute. She had expected an intergalactic incident with a publicity smear a parsec wide. Instead…

A fucking _beat cop_ just called for the wrath of the Dark Queen Herself… and had gotten it approved. On_ holovision_.

The Human Ambassador slumped back in her chair, a little terrified of what had just happened. A prayer had been sent, and a very _dark_ God had answered just like that.

She really hoped that lunatic cop knew what she was doing and the kind of forces she was flirting with.

* * *

**Orlop/Lower Outer Tract Precinct, Block 3850 (Lower Wards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

_Prelate_ Britus Syltius stood there, stunned. He certainly hadn't been expecting _that_. _Primus Centurion_ Varxsius Caldonis just stood there slack-mandabled, the both of them looking at each other with widened eyes at what had just occurred. Britus thought he was going to have to bury another one of his own. Instead…

"Spirits, I bet Pitne's wishing Jane had just gone up and put a bullet in his fringe." Britus said out loud. Varxsius could only silently nod at what had just occurred.

Neither one of them needed to mention why.

* * *

**C-SEC Skycruiser, Public Transportation Airlane, Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

**Shepard Segment #5**

**[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]**

**[POV show the interior of the Citadel Security Services Skycruiser from before, flying in a Public Transportation Airlane along with rentable X3M Contragraviy Skycars and personally-owned-vehicles. DECANTUS/CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD is at the pilot's seat, but the Skycruiser is set at automated. SHEPARD is looking out the pilot's side window as if in a trance]**

MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: _Can… can I ask a couple of questions, Corporal?_

CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: **[Still staring out of window]** Sure.

MPG: _What… just happened back there… was that what I think it was?_

**[SHEPARD turns to POV]**

JCS: What do you think it was, cookie dough?

MPG:_ A hit?_

**[SHEPARD turns to window]**

JCS: No, that wasn't a hit.

**[Pause]**

JCS: Me and Castis had been a part of a sting known as Operation: Sandstorm. We were cracking down hard on the Sand trade with Officers we knew not to be on the take somehow, and we were selected by our Prelate because we believe in our jobs and what we do.

**[SHEPARD looks to POV]**

JCS: There were six of us, and I'm the only one left alive after four months. Each of us had a piece of the puzzle, and when it was just my partner and I left alive, we swore that we would see it through, that we would pin that little [beep]ing gasbag for the brothers that we lost. Without them, we wouldn't have gotten as far. That bit about Omega came from Officer Tardan Mels, a Salarian C-SEC Officer who served about as long as I did. He was killed in the line of duty about two and a half months back in what looked to be a gang-related shooting that he hadn't responded to but ended up with both him and his partner Meelo Kavra dead three sub-blocks away from the shooting incident.

**[SHEPARD looks back to window]**

JCS: How many [beep]ing lives did that [beep]sucker ruin? How much money is involved in the narcotics trade; buying, selling, transporting, arrests, court dates, lawyer fees, treatment, emergency care room visits for overdoses, funerals, holes in families? No one does a [beep]ing thing but cops, but they handcuff us because people are afraid of us somehow while drug dealers carry illegal guns and sell poison to their children. Every time we make headway, some honcho like Pitne For pulls out the big guns with lawyers and whatnot, acting all so innocent while destroying civility and culture with [beep] like Sand or Grease.

MPG: _Don't we make tougher laws?_

JCS: Words on a piece of paper don't make solutions, just like they don't win wars.

**[SHEPARD looks to POV] **

JCS: It's soldiers and good men who man the trenches and the corridors where the wicked try to ply their trade, not some lawmaker living in some fancy domicile in a gated community out in the rich-[beep] sections of the 'sidium. Men like Castis, Tardan, Meelo, Tarquin, and Jorvel who walk the dangerous corridors of the Lower Wards and Scows where people treat us like [beep] because we protect people from themselves, because somehow we're the [beep]ing [beep]holes when people commit crime and we're the only thing that keep them in line. They fear the badge, the cage, the gun, the prosecution. So they cry to our oh so vaulted elected leaders how we're too tough, like walking down a sub-block and seeing domicileless sapients living in droves in the Scows, existing in the trash and squalors is something I like seeing every day. We'd rather listen to some social media whiner on how we're not doing our jobs properly because we don't let people do whatever the [beep] they want. They insult us, they demean us, they strip away the ability to do our jobs, and they call us heavy-handed and failures at our duties. Yet those same [beep]suckers will be the first to cry for us whenever their precious little lives get violated, sobbing why C-SEC didn't magically [beep]ing teleport in at that very moment. Cut our budgets, make a maze of bureaucratic laws to get warrants, debunk every expert we pull out to prosecute crime and criminals, come up with strange and inventive ways to wiggle out of the consequences of your actions while telling the galaxy we're just a mean bunch of spikes, noodles, lizards, and monkeys.

**[SHEPARD looks to window]**

JCS: Civilization exists because we exist. Not architecture, not art, not music, not politics. The law and those who stand for it and defend it.

**[Awkward silence]**

JCS: If you think I'm sorry what I did to Pitne For, let me put it into perspective. That [beep]ing piece of [beep] is likely responsible for more sapient deaths than any mass murderer or serial killer you can think of thanks to the Sand trade. But because it doesn't come from the end of a gun or leaves a big bloody mess, no one gives a flying [beep]. **[SHEPARD looks to POV]** Ever held a day-old newborn hatchling in your hands? One that's been abandoned in the trash with a drug addiction, hungry and naked?

MPG: _…No. I've never seen a dead person before._

JCS: Stick with me, and you'll see a gunshot victim before the day is over. You'll hear the cry of a widow, the last gurgles of a sapients' breath as they die, the senseless violence of the poor taking it out on each other, blaming others for consequences of themselves and a society that completely and utterly doesn't give a [beep] about them. I don't patrol the Presidium where access is limited and guarded faithfully by electronic checkpoints and a small fleet of C-SEC Officers. I have lovely places named like the Mires, the Clog, and the Ream. You won't see malls and fancy department stores where I walk a patrol on the trash-strewn corridors of the Scows, where it's hard to tell if someone is just sleeping in the trash or if they finally got lucky and passed away. You'll get the hate and the rage of a lost and dejected populous that will hate you one sight for all that you represent, the enemy to all. You'll see the gangs that like to toe the line with insults and pretend throw-downs that will immediately cry enforcement brutality if you even breath in their damn direction.

**[Awkward silence]**

JCS: Want to hear something truly and utterly [beep]ed up?

MPG: _Not particularly, but I have a feeling you need to say it._

JCS: Castis… Castis was shot seven times. Two of them were meant for me but that brave Spirit managed to take all three rounds and still managed to save me when he already had four in his back, one to finish him off and another two for me. It wasn't even a decision-making process for him, he just…

**[SHEPARD looks away, and a sniffle is audible]**

JCS: He has two kids and a wife. He should have been the one to survive, not me. We're lying on the damn corridor bleeding when that piece of [beep] gunman came to finish the job and Castis crawled over me and took those rounds after getting shot again, rolling us both into a service vent to save my life.

**[SHEPARD looks back to POV]**

JCS: I pulled him out of that vent as he was bleeding in my arms. I've got a collapsed lung and feels like a giant is sitting right on my chest, crushing my breath while the other round chipped my spine and I can barely use my legs. Cas is… he's bleeding to death in my arms praying for his children to be good examples for the Hierarchy, and I'm hollering for help, crying out to anyone to come and save us both, but mostly Cas. I can hear him gurgling with every breath as I'm holding him, begging for anyone to come by to help us, unable to drag him any further, unable to take even half-a-breath.

**[There are a lot of tears coming out of her eyes]**

JCS: A bunch of hooligans heard me and showed up to that filthy little side corridor while my partner and I are dying in the Backers of the Scows. Two shot up cops bleeding all over the place. Guess what they do?

MPG: _…oh [__beep__]._

JCS: They stood there and [beep]ing laughed. My partner died in my arms to the sound of laughter to his demise. No one called the Skybulance or the Precinct. The same [beep]ing pieces of [beep] that we're protecting and serving celebrated our demise. I bet those [beep]suckers boasted about it to their little [beep]head friends like it was a [beep]ing accomplishment.

**[SHEPARD looks ahead to the lane of traffic]**

JCS: God I hope those [beep]ers are watching this. I made [beep]ing sure I memorized their face-plates and colonial markings as Cas gurgled his last breath as they jeered at us and insulted us as we laid dying in that filthy little corridor corner. I hope they [beep]ing realize their Goddamn days are numbered, because I'm a cop and I'm really good with facial recognition. Failing to render aid to an injured citizen on the Citadel is a prosecutable crime, and considering that Castis was a cop and he died in my arms? That's negligent homicide; ten years in an IsoCube.

**[SHEPARD looks back to POV]**

JCS: They had best start praying really [beep]ing long and hard to the Spirits I never bump into them. There's no statue of limitations on homicide of any form.

MPG: _Damn. Really?_

JCS: Do you want someone to get away with your death just because it passed by some expiration date? That of a family member? A loved one? While I don't think anything on their behalf could have saved Castis, they could have [beep]ing tried. Still counts. Do you think his son and daughter are going to like knowing their sire died to applause? The only reason I didn't die was because I threw my partners' dead body on top of my own and I crawled out of that filthy little side corridor, dragging myself and Castis out into a main concourse. It was over four hundred meters of crawling with two bullets in my back and my partner on top of me whom I refused to leave behind for the [beep]ing vultures and scavengers to pick over his corpse. I crawled all that with with my arms alone and then when I got to a populated area, I pulled out my service pistol and emptied the entirety of my heat sink into the side of a building with the desperate hope that someone would report shots fired. Took about ten minutes for two C-SEC Officers to show up to my position where they found me holding Cas, refusing to let go, three-quarters dead myself.

**[SHEPARD looks ahead]**

JCS: Call me excessive, call me brutal, call me malicious, I dare any mother[beep]er in the the galaxy come up to my face and say that [beep] with the full knowledge that he's about to get his [beep] annihilated and take that [beep] like a champ. Let's see how they fare with a bullet through their spine and one of their lungs shot out, carrying a man whom I called brother on my back to keep him away from the paws of junkies and animals, carrying him so he could make home to his family just one last time. I see those creatures down in the Scows sell each other out for bare Credits and inject themselves with filth, and it's everyone else's fault but their own. Society forgets about them, turns a blind eye and lets them rot in the cesspools and forgotten spaces of the Citadel, hoping the animals wipe themselves out without burning the whole place to the ground. People cry something should be done but do nothing. They talk and talk but forget that coming up with plans or bills is just whistling in the wind. They aren't the ones picking up the pieces, the ones finding their relatives and loved ones on a missing sapients' case, finding the bodies stuffed into the recesses and vents. Society long ago decided not to give a [beep] anymore. And the only damn person who does anything about it… is me. Not politicians, not the rich, not the concerned public. Cops like me who protect and serve.

**[Silence rules the Skycruiser for a moment]**

JCS: I hope you don't mind we make a personal stop. There's one thing I need to do.

MPG: _I don't mind. Kinda been wondering where we've been heading, but it seemed you needed the time to mull._

JCS: You're not bad, cookie dough. Keep this up and I might promote you to bubble gum.

MPG: _Gee, thanks. Where are we heading?_

JCS: I kept my promise, and now I'm going to deliver it to the only thing that truly matters in the galaxy.

**[POV looks out to the Skylane, and then to SHEPARD, who looks at POV]**

JCS: Family, Mike. Never forget that.

* * *

**Apt. 1408, Stannis Fields Building, 3125 Block (Lower Wards), Kithoi Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

**Shepard Segment #6**

**[BEGIN POINT-OF-VIEW RECORDING]**

OFF-SCREEN VOICES: _AUNTIE!_

**[POV shows a domicile decorated in the styles of angular furniture and spartan settings. Everything is either made of metal or rock or looks to be made of metal or rock. DECANTUS/CORPORAL JANE CATHRINE SHEPARD enters the domicile while POV stands at the doorway as two tiny figures pounce the armored Human woman, one fast and one tottling]**

CORPORAL JANE CATHERINE SHEPARD: To'jas!

**[SHEPARD is holding a pair of Turian hatchlings, small and without clothing. They have brown skinplates, and the tallest reaches SHEPARD's mid-thigh while the other only reaches her knee. Two sets of tiny-taloned hands reach up to be hoisted, which SHEPARD takes both into her hands, scoops them up, and brings the hatchings up for a gentle but loving hug]**

JCS: Veto vu nooka se'leto vus dam ta'she?

**[SCROLLING MARQUEE: MAXIVUS ADEPDOS, SON OF CASTIS ADEPDOS, AGE 4.]**

**[SCROLLING MARQUEE: LUTANIA ADEPDOS, DAUGHTER OF CASTIS ADEPDOS, AGE 2]**

**[SUBTITLES: HAVE YOU BEEN MINDING YOUR MOM FOR ME?]**

KIDS: Vee, Auntie!

MAXIVUS ADEPDOS: Chuga muu vallo dam, Auntie?

**[SUBTITLES: WHY IS MOM SAD?]**

JCS: Oh, little Serah.** [SHEPARD nuzzles the Turian boy with her nose]** Your dam is… having a tough day. Dam mo kaarn. Ihr lavla tu.

**[SUBTITLES: MOM IS TOUGH. SHE LOVES YOU]**

LUTANIA ADEPDOS: Jat! Jat!

JCS: **[Laughs]** Of course! **[SHEPARD puts LUTANIA on her right shoulder, and LUTANIA buries her face in SHEPARD's red hair]** Maxi, where's your dam at?

MA: Zelotia!

**[SUBTITLES: CULINARY!]**

JCS: Jaa, tu rem vee ullit bor aa nan. Se kappa pur dam.

**[SUBTITLES: NOW, YOU TWO GO PLAY AND BE NICE. I NEED TO TALK TO MOM]**

**[SHEPARD presses her forehead to each of the children before setting them back to the floor where they scamper off. SHEPARD turns to POV]**

JCS: Might as well come in, cookie dough. Just… respect where you're visiting. If you have questions, ask in a way that shows you're trying to understand. Turian households are not Human households. Here, the females' word is law.

MICHAEL PATRICK GREENE: _This is your partner's house? Centurion Castis Adepdos?_

JCS: Yeah, it is.

MPG: _I… don't know any Turian._

JCS: Don't worry, Shaltis has a translator. It's just the kids you'd need to know Unifying Cipritine for.

**[POV enters the domicile, doing a semi-slow look around to find a domicile decorated with pictures of family members and tapestries of landscapes that are obviously Palavenian in nature. SHEPARD heads deeper into the domicile, and POV follows past a large room that has ground pillows for chairs and a low table. Both MAXIVUS and LUTANIA are in this room playing with hatchling-oriented toys; MAXIVUS with half-meter tall action figures of **_**Hasti**_** Soldiers, and LUTANIA playing with a stuffed Hanar doll. POV follows SHEPARD towards a room that has half-walls surrounding it with a stone cylinder in the middle with a metal grate covering the top of it. On it is meat being cooked over an open fire, a hood sucking up the smoke, and a robed Turian female tending to the food. SHEPARD turns to POV]**

JCS: Give me a moment, would you?

**[POV goes up and down slightly]**

**[SHEPARD enters into the room, a kitchen/culinary, where SHALTIS ADEPDOS looks up from her cooking to see SHEPARD. POV takes a few respectful steps back as SHEPARD and SHALTIS embrace, touching foreheads for a long moment as SHEPARD sniffles audibly]**

JCS: I got him, Shaltis. I promised I'd find a way to bring him down to protect you and your family and…

SHALTIS ADEPDOS: I know, I saw.

JCS: I didn't think I'd survive. I thought Pitne would get someone to finish the job as soon as I got back on duty, or I would be sent to some [beep]hole location as far as possible from him. But… I couldn't just let him win and him endangering your family, Shaltis. Not after everything he's done.

SA: That wouldn't have been a comfort if you had died as well, Jane. But it's over now, and now we can all rest easier knowing he's gone and our family is safe. I mean that, Jane; our family. Castis gave his life for someone he saw as kin, and you are a part of this family. Do try to remember that.

JCS: I-it should have been me, he should be the one here, I…

SA: Then he wouldn't have been the male I fell in love with, Jane, the one I was proud to bear his offspring. He wouldn't have been the male to take a chance with the rookie Human cop, to see her as a female of honor and integrity instead of just as a bumbling Human Being trying to make their way in the galaxy. Yes, he is gone and it hurts, but he gave his duty for a good cause and his life for a better one. His Spirit is in peace, Jane. All I ask is that you let yours be in peace, too.

JCS: I'll try. No promises.

**[SHEPARD and SHALTIS pull away from touching foreheads and the embrace. SHEPARD leans against the half wall while SHALTIS goes back to cooking. POV looks down to see LUTANIA tugging at POV's pant leg]**

LA: Jat? **[Little talon hands go upward, very similar to a Human child who wants to be picked up]**

MPG: Okay, I'll pick you up. **[A pair of hands encircle the little girl hatchling under her arms and picks her up, holding her close like a Human child would be]** Oof! You're a lot heavier than you look!

JCS: **[Off-Screen]** Those plates aren't cosmetic, cookie dough. **[POV looks to SHEPARD]** What do you know, Shaltis? He didn't snap like a twig trying to pick up Looty. Just wait until Maxi wants to go up. Nothing says physical training like having a couple of Turian kids around. Might lose some of that soft Earth-born pudge you got connected to your love handles there.

SA: Do I want to know why they're called 'love handles'? Or does the name say it all?

MPG: _Hey, I work out! I played European Football in Secondary Gymnasium!_

JCS: I'm sure you did. Were you the field goal kicker?

MPG: _That's American Football._

SA: Why would anyone use a foot as a ball? Humans are weird. **[SHEPARD chuckles at that]**

MPG: _I can't believe they're calling me fat._

LA: Fffffffff-at! **[LUTANIA giggles]** Fat! Fat! Fatfatfat!

**[SHEPARD cackles out loud]**

SA: Maxivus! Zelotia!

**[SHALTIS goes to a cupboard that opens upward instead of a door going outward and selects two stone-looking plates. She then takes the meat off the fire with her talons and sets the steak-looking meat on the plates, one each. MAXIVUS runs over to the kitchen where SHALTIS hands him a plate what SHEPARD pulls up a chair that is obviously meant for the half-wall to be used as a dining location. MAXIVUS ascends the chair with a plate in one taloned hand easily as he begins devouring his steak-like meal by picking it apart with his talons and popping it in his mouth. SHALTIS comes out of the culinary with a plate in hand as she gestures for LUTANIA, and the little Turian hatchling floats over with a pair of hands hoisting her, a Human grunt audible. The mother holds the plate as LUTANIA takes her tiny talons and begins tearing small bites to feed herself with them]**

MPG: _Wow, less messy than Human kids._

SA: Have you eaten today?

**[There is an audible rumbling of a stomach. POV looks down to show a white t-shirt, primarily in the abdomen area]**

SA: I'll cook midday meal for you before you finish the rest of your shift.

**[SHEPARD stands up and holds out her hands, taking LUTANIA and her plate as SHALTIS moves back in the kitchen]**

MPG: _Um…_

JCS: Go ahead with the silly question, cookie dough.

**[LUTANIA is picking apart and eating her food with ease]**

MPG: _Turians… do eat a different kind of food than us, right? Dextro-chilary?_

JCS: Yep, you're going to be fed some da'thakar beef sauteed in goruush sauce along with a helping of korander bites, all imported from Palaven.

SA: Quit making fun of the Human, Jane. **[SHALTIS has removed the metal grill from the stone cylinder and pulled out another one from a section closer to the ground. The second one has an obvious red ring on the outside of it]** If you have any allergies that I should know of, tell me. I've learned how to cook what you Humans call a teebone steak.

JCS: No worries, cookie dough. Shaltis has been cooking for me for years. Just don't ask her to make you anything using chicken eggs.

**[SHEPARD's left wrist starts to blink with a blue holographic pulse. SHEPARD looks at it, presses the pulse, and looks at the information coming from her OmniTool]**

SA: Ah. Command is calling.

JCS: Excuse me, I need to take this in the other room.** [SHEPARD looks to SHALTIS]** I can't believe who's actually calling me right now.

MPG: _Who?_

**[SHEPARD looks to POV]**

JCS: The Chief Executor of Citadel Security.

* * *

Author's Note: I guess we won't be seeing ol' Pitne selling out his partner in _Mass Effect 2_. He broke _THAT_ rule.

Yes, Shepard hacks the door with the ME1 hacking minigame involving four buttons and a Simon-esque pattern.

I made Shepard's gun sound like the Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum, which it's suppose to be. BTW "Dirty" Harry Callahan carried a Smith and Wesson Model 38, the 'reputed' most powerful handgun in the world, long since out of production. The modern day equivalent of the Dirty Harry is now the Model 59 N-Frame Hunting Revolver, and is superseded in power by the Smith and Wesson Model 500 Magnum in sheer pistol power.

_**Whom Not To Fuck With**_ \- In a forum discussion earlier, I wondered what would make Aria near-untouchable. Most would say drug lord, war lord, crime lord, pirate lord, or slave lord, but I imagine the Terminus is populated with plenty of those, making Aria just another one amongst many. In Real Life, these people exist and I'm sure some grace the 'don't mess with' category… but these guys generally don't last more than half-a-decade or so before some usurper or nation erases them. Some of the worst RL personages, like Carlos the Jackal, Manuel Noriega, and even Osama bin Laden, were ruthlessly chased down and all met their ends by bullets, bombs, or inside a prison cell. Most of the Roman Caesars were killed by their own, either by Praetorian Guards or their soon-to-be successor, so position or prestige doesn't get you the Hand of God to protect you. So what would make a person so terrible that messing with them isn't worth the consequence?

Why, the owner of the largest financial institution in the galaxy, of course! Need a loan? Need a ship? Want to start a business? What about a tax haven? A good percentage rate? Omega has a stock market for investments and bonds, and the Upper Crust (where Afterlife is) is some of the most expensive real estate in the galaxy. Whenever the Hierarchy needs to build a bigger, better Dreadnought and their pockets are running a little flat, guess who they call?

No one fucks with Aria because, quite literally, every government, business, corporation, and entity (legal and illegal) owes her money, and generally a ton of it. She can ruin the galaxy by calling in debts that the Citadel owes her while she finances terrorist organizations and separatists, sells real estate all over the galaxy, secures loans (home, Skyauto, vessel, personal, business), and can even give you a nice secured credit card with a nice APR. Everyone caters to her because she has everyone in her pockets.

Galactic Financial; for _ALL_ of your banking needs :-)

Just don't go stiffing _that_ bill.

It's not unusual for cops to become semi-attached family member. Just one of the many reasons why its called 'The Brotherhood'.


	4. The Sandstorm, IV

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. Concept based off the A&E Entertainment program 'LivePD'._

**Headquarters, Future Content Network, New York City, New York, United North America, Earth, Sol System, Helios Cluster, February 8, 2175**

Executive Producer Julia Davenport sat in her executive-style office chair, leaning back slightly as she looked at the bank of monitors in front of her as _LiveC-SEC_ continued to air.

She had just gotten off the phone with about half-a-dozen very important people. One of them was the Future Content Network Chief Executive Officer, Chairman Vincent leFlamme. Another was another network drooling at the thought of syndicating the show onto their platform as well to reap in on the sudden explosion of viewers (that wasn't up to her). Some sissy-ass politican in the European Union cried about how there wasn't any kind of similar show in Europe to highlight Human cops on Earth (no doubt said same politician was likely one of those thumbsucking assholes Corporal Jane Catherine Shepard bitterly complained about handcuffing cops from doing their job to score points for the polls on live holovision). There was a Chief of Police in Sydney, Australia who was interested in doing something similar for the Territory of Australia to at least show Australians their own Finest at work (Julia could respect that). She had also surprisingly gotten a call from an Asari for a _Citadel_ network about including a few more reporters and introducing a few others (meaning aliens) onto the show for diversity and equality (read: we didn't think of this but we want to jump on the band wagon).

The last phone call was the biggest though. And that phone was ringing right now unknownst to her.

"Julia? You have a call from an Adjutant Lictvus Bortalmus?" Paul Watkins said, her assistant told her, looking at her questioningly. "Says he's the Adjutant of the Hierarchy…?" Watkins didn't know what that was, and Julia had to think about it. She had heard of that term before somewhere… on the news…?

"Wait, as in…" Julia went to her terminal and did a search engine look-up on the name _Lictvus Bortalmus_, and the top result had her jaw drop.

_This fucking guy is the right hand man of holyfuckingshit…_

"Adjutant Bortalmus? This is _Seras_ Julia Davenport with Future Content Network." Julia said over the phone on her desk, waving her hand at Watkins to indicate he'd rather be anywhere else other than in her proximity. "Do I need to go to a quieter location?" She was in the middle of the control room for _LiveC-SEC_ where the show was running, and right now was focusing on a _Centurion_/Sergeant Marcus van de Walt, who was currently chastising a young Human teenager who was sitting flat on the corridor of the Citadel for vandalism while the C-SEC Officer was evidently going to make the young man clean up his art to avoid jail time.

"Seras _Davenport, thank you for your time."_ Came the flanged voice of a male Turian over the receiver. _"I am told that you are the Executive Producer of this Human 'reality' show called 'LiveC-SEC'."_

"That is correct, Adjutant." Julia wasn't sure what the honorific was, but she knew Turians didn't say '_sir_' or '_ma'am_' like Humans did. There wasn't a _'Mister_' or '_Misses_', either. This guy's position indicated that this wasn't a part of the riff-raff or ye huddled masses; this guy had a political position that had most anyone with a brain stand up and take notice _regardless_ of what government they served or what species they were a part of. No one blew this guy off.

Not when one was the right-hand man of the fucking Primarch of Palaven, they didn't.

"_We just finished watching the latest segment,"_ likely the 'Shepard' segment since the others were rather benign, _"and found something interesting of note."_ Read: The Primarch found something interesting of note, thus I am calling you.

"I'm listening."

"_This widow, Shaltis Adepdos?"_ Julia grunted in acknowledgment, wondering where this was leading. _"What do you know of her?"_

"Other than she is the wife… sorry, bondmate of _Centurion_ Castis Adepdos and a mother… _dam_ of two hatchlings, not much else, Adjutant." Davenport replied, wondering what this conversation was about. While she sincerely doubted that there was a file on _every_ Turian for the Hierarchy for one to peruse, she suspected that the Adjutant didn't need a briefing from her about one of his own people, especially concerning a cops' wife. That sort of thing should be on record. "Can't gauge much else save she seems to have a nice place on the Cit. Never been there myself, and I can't compare how nice the furniture was since I've never seen a Turian house or domicile before. Could be fancy or basic for all I know."

"_What struck us was that _Seras_ Adepdos had a cooking surface that she exchanged from the one she used to cook for her hatchlings."_ Yes, Julia remembered that; the one ringed with red. That had struck her as funny, knowing it for what it was; a grill for levo foods to avoid cross-contamination. Obviously, Shaltis looked out after for Jane Shepard as her bondmate's partner, and that kind of thing wasn't unusual amongst cops, families being semi-adopted due to the closeness that cops tended to have. _"What we noted that you might not have is that it was kept in easy reach, _Seras_, not in a location that _Seras_ Adepdos_ _had to locate or move several things in order to use. It was close by, on-hand, even."_

"You mean to imply that it might be an everyday occurrence." She got the point that Adjutant Bortalmus was getting. "Shaltis is the bondmate of a deceased C-SEC Police Officer. I don't know how they do it on the Cit, but on Earth, a cops' wife gets what we generally call 'widow's benefits' when their spouse dies in the line-of-duty. I assume Shaltis is getting something like that… but Castis Adepdos had only been on the Force for… eight years?" Cit years and Earth years didn't exactly mesh, but it was somewhere around there. "Those can't be very healthy paychecks." _Now_ she got the point the Adjutant was getting. "You think Jane moved in to help support Castis' family."

"_Yes, we do."_ Read: The Primarch thinks that. _"_Seras_ Adepdos would only receive Tier II Widow Stipend; it is approximately a quarter of her bondmates' annual salary broken down into a monthly stipend. It is… not a stipend that one can afford to raise a family with without seeking employment elsewhere. And it is easy to tell that _Seras_ Adepdos is a caregiver… I believe '_housemaker_' is the Human term."_

"Homemaker, a house wife." Husband earned the money, wife raised the kids at home. With the husband now gone, Shaltis Adepdos had two little ones possibly too young for daycare or whatever the Citadel did and a meager stipend after losing and burying her husband. Was it any real surprise that Jane Shepard had found a solution by possibly moving in, caring for the family of the man that she had heart-wrenchingly mentioned had in fact saved her life? For the partner she trusted and the one she couldn't save, she paid that debt in the only way she knew how; by providing as Castis did. Julia realized that LiveC-SEC was technically now successful; it had accomplished the goal she had pitched, to ease tensions between Humans and Turians. Oh, she doubted it would actually happen, but it was a good pitch. But now there was a Human cop who was looking after the family of a slain Turian cop, possibly living with them to help them make ends meet. Those two little hatchlings were certainly not at all afraid to run up right to their 'Auntie'. Hell, Jane spoke Unifying Cipritine! Very well, according to Turian-oriented comments on the message boards. "While I do appreciate the heads-up, I doubt this is why you called, Adjutant." Read: _Get to the point, please. I'm running a show._

"_We know that your network cannot pay the Officers involved with the show; it would be considered legal graft, which is not allowed on the Citadel."_ _Or on Earth_, Julia thought to herself, but didn't interrupt. _"We are also aware that these segments containing Decantus Shepard have become quite sensational, and are undoubtedly making your network a great deal of money." Am… I about to be extorted by the Primarch of Palaven?_, Julia thought next, but didn't interrupt. _"We would greatly appreciate it if a contribution were made in _Seras_ Adepdos' honor to help her out in her time of need."_

Read: The Primarch wants you to help pay Shaltis' rent since you're making so much fucking money off a star cop you can't reimburse.

"That shouldn't be an issue, Adjutant." Julia replied honestly. _Of course, you're probably going to hold me over a bucket if I didn't, but something tells me there's more to this story than just rent._

Davenport thought about it for a moment; wasn't C-SEC something like seventy percent Turian? No doubt there were cop casualties on the Cit; Jane did mention that no less than _five_ in her Precinct alone had lost their lives in four months, and that was just the ones a part of _Operation: Sandstorm_. Five Police Officer fatalities in a city in a year was a big deal on Earth, but Jane literally worked in a _small section_ of the Citadel. Possibly the worse, true (according to Shepard), but likely there were other deaths. There was something like two-hundred thousand Citadel Security Officers in the Center of the Known Universe, and Julia had an inkling of an idea that a good deal of their presence graced the Presidium Rings (the 'sidium was what Jane called it, and it was a pretty good nickname, actually). Throw in more cops in the high-presence, high-value, high-visibility areas like the Upper Rings of the Presidium, then all the admin types and whatnot that ran the Headquarters for C-SEC, and it was a wonder what the Precincts consisted of in terms of personnel. Julia wasn't even sure how many precincts or stations there were. That could be something to look up and put onto the next segment.

"_Are you aware how _Decantus_ Shepard knows Unifying Cipritine so well?"_ That actually sounded like an honest question.

"No, I don't." Julia replied honestly. She had looked up Jane Catherine Shepard's information when Michael Patrick Greene had selected her. "Citadel Security blocks most information from the public about their Officers for their protection as well as deterring possible blackmail, threats, collusion, and graft." Most law enforcement agencies did that, honestly, and for good reason. "I wasn't able to get much out of her except a birth date and the date she graduated Citadel Security Services' Training Academy three years prior. Obviously her past is classified so no one could locate any parents or siblings to threaten them to get to a cop. I just assumed that she learned it from her partner."

"_To a Human, that would seem the case since you likely couldn't tell the difference."_ The Adjutant replied. _"But to a Turian, they would be able to hear the pronunciations, the inflections, the accent. Her Cipritine is nearly flawless, and at conversation level, likely… native-level linguistics."_ That was considered a Level IV Speaker, being able to speak as if _born_ knowing the language, more or less. _"True, she had a Turian partner, her Precinct is likely heavily-populated with Turians, and she no doubt learned words in the Academy. But with Universal Translators, most don't bother learning how to speak another language. I certainly don't know the three Thessian cants or how to speak Sur'keshian other than a few words and numbers."_ Julia was getting the point Adjutant Bortalmus was getting. With a Universal Translator, Jane wouldn't have needed to learn Unifying Cipritine or any other language to perform her job as a C-SEC Officer. Yet, somehow, she had learned it not only proficiently, but to a degree that Turians would recognize as extremely well. _"It would take one years to learn it that well. I believe I met an Asari with a Turian bondmate that learned it for his sakes, and it took her around a decade to speak it to a degree where she sounded as if she had been born to it. _Decantus_ Shepard has that same ability, and yet has only been a C-SEC Officer for three years where half of her day is spent enforcing the law, not learning a language."_

Read: Who, what, when, where, and why.

"Surprisingly, I can't tell you anything about her past save that she graduated from the C-SEC Training Academy with a high score and yet ended up in one of the worst locations in the Citadel." Julia had a pretty good idea how that happened; none of the Human C-SEC Officers were in 'good' locations, none of them protecting and serving any closer to the Presidium Rings than the Mid-Arm Section. They were also all Civil Patrol Officers; not one Mobile Patrol Officer, not one in the Investigations and Evidence Division, or the Financial Crime Division, or Narcotic Enforcement Bureau, or any of the other 'higher-level' offices and precincts of C-SEC. Every single one of them was a street cop, and the highest-ranking one was a Sergeant; no Detectives, no Lieutenants, no Agents or Special Agents (if they had those), none of those things. Hell, the longest-serving Human cop in C-SEC had just hit his ten year mark, so perhaps that wasn't that unusual. But she doubted it. No, Jane Shepard was in the Orlop Wards of the Outer Tract of the Zakera Arm because C-SEC dumped the Humans in shitty precincts. Yes, the turnover rates were pretty high in those locations (from quitting, being fired, being arrested themselves, or getting injured and/or killed) and so the numbers would have to be brought back up… but it was still pretty telling.

Jane was the only Human in her Precinct. Davenport wondered how that would look when Mike arrived there.

But the Adjutant did bring up a good point; _how_ did Jane end up speaking Cipritine so well?

Thankfully, she happened to work for a network that employed both reporters… and investigative journalists.

And one of them was pretty much sitting right in front of the subject in question.

* * *

**Orlop/Lower Outer Tract Precinct, Block 3850 (Lower Wards), Zakera Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

_Prelate_ Britus Syltius was getting a call on his personal receiver in his personal office; not a number that was known to the general public. The CallEID had him a bit shocked, but he supposed that he should have expected it.

"Prelate_ Syltius? This is Councilor Sesius Algonius."_ The flanged voice in the receiver confirmed what the CallEID on the receivers' base had said. Britus did his best not to sigh; why the _vrack_ was _he_ getting called instead of the Chief Executor? That was what a meritocracy was for. _"I'm sure you're aware of your Officers' involvement of what just happened spreading throughout the ExtraNet like plasma fire. Do you have any idea how this will make C-SEC look?"_ The tone wasn't pleased at all.

"Good." Syltius replied, making the voice pause. "Because not only was every word Shepard said true, she actually didn't tell anyone some of the other bad bits that I've been fighting fang-and-claw against. Like the part that Adepdos' widow _isn't_ receiving her surviving widow stipend, Shepard herself was stuck with her medical bills, that I was _forced_ to suspend her for a month without pay from the Office of the Executor, or the fact that the sapient that killed her partner had a CitPass approved in record time through Customs and Immigration. I haven't gotten any resolution at all for the murders of five of my Officers through the Bureau of Investigations and Evidence or the Office of Internal Action Affairs. Of course, all the evidence was destroyed by order of the Tribunal, and done by C-SEC. That little _s'kak_-scraping scumbag who existed in another jurisdiction for seven years unmolested was debiting in millions in Red Sand into the Citadel itself through means that neither my Officers or myself were able to fully track down." The voice hadn't responded yet. The cold fury that Britus felt at all that slipped through the cracks was now talking; that cold fury that had him in charge of one of the smallest Precincts in the Citadel with the worst jurisdiction in terms of crime, population density, poverty, and domicilelessness numbers. He had the worst location, and the fewest amount of Officers. "I picked Shepard along with five other Officers for _Operation: Sandstorm_ because they were damn good at their jobs and I trusted them. She's the only one left alive, and she was looking at a complete and utter failure on C-SEC's behalf when the case was not only completely dismissed by the Tribunal, but all the evidence destroyed and the records sealed. Probably should ask if you met Pitne For in some political-oriented party or other event, shook his hand, or accepted a campaign contribution. As I understood it from that evidence that was destroyed by Internal Action Affairs, he was pretty generous with his donations."

There was a significant pause.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Councilor?" Syltius asked. There was enough scorn in his voice to jump-start a stellar singularity.

"_This will likely cost her her badge."_

"Rolling the guilt and blame on the lowest-ranking individual?" Britus scoffed at that. "Let me remind you, Councilor, that the public can be very fickle. While the physical evidence that my Officers collected and I reverified before sending it to Department of Judicial Prosecution was destroyed by order of the Tribunal, there's likely plenty of electronic evidence available on the ExtraNet that can be obtained by anyone. You try to take Shepard's badge, and I don't doubt that this Future Content Network will make a push against it, along with the Human Embassy. You try to bury her, and they'll turn her into a hero and a martyr as being the only damn cop that actually did her job right.

"Oh, and good luck with her sire. I'm sure he'll be quite pleased when he finds out." Syltius could almost hear the mechanics in Councilor Algonius's head trying to jump-start the engine core of his brain, probably wondering why he should be worried about a _Human_ father.

Britus wondered how the public would react when they found out that little truth.

* * *

**Apt. 1408, Stannis Fields Building, 3125 Block (Lower Wards), Kithoi Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, February 8, 2175**

_Decantus_/Corporal Jane Catherine Shepard found herself receiving a phone call from, of all people, her boss's boss's boss's boss… give or take a few.

"This is _Decantus_ Shepard." Jane spoke into her EarComm, connected to her OmniTools' Li-Fi link and encrypted through the Citadel Security Services Communication Server that was connected to her Haliat Armory's Regelius C-SEC Edition BlueTool. She had walked into her 'bedroom' in the Adepdos Domicile when she saw who was trying to contact her, glaring at Mike Greene to let him know that this would be a _private_ call. She certainly didn't need a one-sided conversation with her boss's boss's boss's boss broadcasted.

"_Decantus, this is Chief Executor Kaius Contenus."_ The Executor of Citadel Security Services identified himself, likely out of habit despite Shepard's BlueTool having a CallEID linked to the person-in-question. _"That… cameraman isn't there?"_

"No, I'm in another room, and the door is closed." Jane didn't mention that it was her room. She was pretty certain on how this conversation was going to go.

Badly.

"_This whole… debacle,"_ that was putting it mildly, _"has made a real mess of things."_ Shepard knew Turian tones, and this one sounded… resigned. _"When I tell you to take the rest of your shift off, it isn't because you are being suspended or investigated. For the moment at least, though I will make sure that if there is one that it will be fair. I just looked up your suspension that I did sign off on and discovered that what was handed to me had nothing to do with the events that you described. But since C-SEC was ordered to destroy all the evidence against _Serah_ For that included the shooting involving yourself and your partner, which the report didn't cover, the investigation will likely be a procedural one where we annotate what evidence we do have left; whatever it is that you saw and collected."_

A part of Shepard was shocked, but not really surprised.

"My _Prelate_ did also see that evidence." Shepard responded, frowning. This wasn't what she had been expecting. It was better to be sure, but she wasn't sure if it was merely scrambling to recovering from losses or a screw-up. "If you need collaboration, he would be the one that can confirm what we discovered."

"_It may come to that."_ The Executor sighed audibly. _"I won't lie Decantus; this will get ugly. I don't doubt that Pitne had important people in his suit pockets, and I don't doubt some of those same sapients have political positions; his case is a testament to that. Someone will go after you for overstepping your bounds, but what I saw today was the galaxy watching one of our own righting a wrong in a heavy-handed manner, and I don't actually disapprove. I'm glad you didn't execute him on live holovision; that I was afraid of. Since there is technically no murder, no body, no item used, and no real evidence that For-Clan is dead, any charges brought upon you at a later date will be quashed by this Office personally. Your partner was murdered, and we failed him. Spirits know were I in your position, I would have gone in with a shotgun and watched that Volus cur pop with depressurization with a smile. But I must warn you, Decantus; you are now very visible. _

"_I wouldn't celebrate that."_

"Yeah." There really wasn't such a thing as a 'popular' cop. And the few that did exist were generally hounded by criminals. "Bet you're regretting this whole show thing."

"_If there's one good thing to come of this, Decantus, is that people just got a damn good reminder to respect the law."_

"Yeah, I'd say." Jane saw the door to her bedroom open, and Shaltis pop her fringed head in, indicating that she needed to say something. "Hold on a second, Executor." She looked to her partners' widow. "Is everything alright, Shaltis?"

"Yes, Jane. Your brother is here, though." Jane blinked at that. She hadn't seen her brother in almost a year due to their positions in C-SEC; both duty-wise as well as location upon the Citadel. She was already smiling though.

"_Go visit your family, Decantus. We'll talk later, I am sure."_ The Executor said, in which Shepard thanked him before hanging up. She left her mostly-bare bedroom to enter into the main domicile to see Mike Green sitting on one of her Human chairs looking at the newcomer, the reporter looking at her with a questioning look. She ignored him as Jane practically bolted forward to give her older brother a hug.

"Garrus!"

* * *

EPILOGUE

By the end of the solar day on several homeworlds, colonies, and space stations, word-of-mouth had spread around about the newest HV sensation; LiveC-SEC. New subscriptions were ordered in the millions, and the show was viewed more than three hundred _million_ times before the next calender day. Messages on ExtraNet boards supported by a hundred social media outlets numbered in the billions as trolls, memes, troupes, picquotes, and gifs were pasted and linked. The show was publicized on thousands of commercials on thusands of stations, talked about my late night hosts and Netbloggers, Netstreamed through thousands of locations throughout the Milky Way. Before the next workday, it was the newest sensation, friends introducing it to friends, workers to workers, acquaintances to acquaintances. One could find sapients streaming it on their OmniTools and Datapadds while waiting for public transportation, viewing it on console screens in Skycars, watching it at their homes, sneaking peeks on their work terminals when they should have been employed. What had looked to be a cop with a grudge about to execute her partners' murderer had turned into something even more diabolical, where somehow everyone walked away alive… whether that was a good thing or not only the Gods and Spirits knew. Yet as much as the show became the newest thing in a galaxy that always seems starving for the latest 'new-new', it was shadowed by one thing and one thing only; its newest star.

By the end of February Eighth on the Terran Calender, Jane Catherine Shepard became the most famous cop in the galaxy.

* * *

STAY TUNED FOR SEASON TWO OF 'LIVEC-SEC'! SAME PROVIDER, SAME SUBSCRIPTION!

AND NOW, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS…

"_Crest a mess? Getting ready for the big date? Check out Armali Councils' CrestGel. When you want to look your best, forget the rest!"_

"_Valluvius Aeros' Ghost; the highest-rated sports Skycar in the galaxy. Get it today with a low APR and down payment! Valluvius; fly faster than the Spirits!"_

"_Sha'ira's Secret new line of intimate apparel has released its latest line; the Barkini Edition. Come check us out!"_

"_Yan'bola's Labor Union is expanding its employment services through the Hegemony and Traverse to address the needs of growing businesses and labor-intensive workloads. We guarantee efficiency and compliance."_

"_Not a morning person? Perk up with Starbuck's; the galaxy's most popular drink!"_

* * *

Author's Notes: I cam up with the idea of LiveC-SEC literally about five or six days ago (perhaps even on Mother's Day, shame on me). I wasn't watching LivePD, didn't reminisce about COPS, and I think I was working on _Andromeda: A Better Tomorrow_ as the counterpart to _Mass Effect: Of Lions And Angels_ where Jane Shepard goes to Andromeda instead of playing ME3. To make that work out, I had Jane be a career cop in C-SEC, raised by the Ryders on the Citadel and joining the force at eighteen. I made her a famous cop by introducing an incident where a reporter had been doing a show called CitPD, and then there was a highly-publicized incident when Jane had been the one followed where Mike Greene is a tag-along to a massive shootout, and Shepard becomes a famous cop. I like the idea so much that I literally wrote it for context, and like _that_ so much that I decided to say screw it and made it a story. And that's how I roll, cookie dough.

Yes, that one advertisement is, in fact, for 'indentured laborers from the Hegemony'. Batarians (and their Embassy) are still a part of Council Space. The original 'Citadel Blues' (which had CopShep and CopGarrus as partners) would have had them cracking into a drug-ring that would have lead to the Batarian Ambassador 'importing' not only Red Sand, but 'laborers' as well, which would have led to the expulsion/pulling-out of the Batarian Embassy. Mind you, that doesn't mean the Batarians as a whole are gone; just the government ones.

The advertisements are all joke advertisements of 'products' I've created once upon a time or another throughout the various Mass Effect stories I've written, such as Sha'ira's Secret being the ME version of Victoria's Secret, the Cipritine Ghost being the car Lieutenant Janey Shepard stole in Mass Effect vs. Aliens, and the fact that I've used Starbuck's as the joke 'most popular human brand in the galaxy' because Earth is the only place with the coffee bean… and the galaxy has a dire craving for caffeine. (BTW, _tea_ is the most popular drink on Earth today. Thank you, England)

Prelate Brilus Syltius gets a chance to hang up on a Councilor. He fits the mold that I see Police Chiefs and Commissioners; absolute hard-asses that you do not want to get on the bad side of. Like Tom Selleck on steroids.

Wait, that Garrus? Yes… _THAT_ Garrus. Stay tuned.

Coming up next?

LiveC-SEC: Season 2 - Armed And Dangerous


End file.
